


So Goes The Brigadier

by thewriterofperfectdisasters



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood, Crime Family AU, Fluff, M/M, Minor OC Death, Sexual Content, Slow Burn, depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-09-24
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:14:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 63,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewriterofperfectdisasters/pseuds/thewriterofperfectdisasters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian Gallagher is looking for two things in life: stability and simplicity, and then he meets Alexei Lysenko, a guy with a hatred for oatmeal, and a penchant for outcast youth.</p><p>Mickey Milkovich is just trying to keep his head down, and his ass covered, but that might all go up in smoke the second Ian Gallagher and his fucking oatmeal cookie turn up.</p><p><strong>ON HIATUS UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE.</strong> contact me @<a href="http://grumpypunkbucky.tumblr.com/">grumpypunkbucky</a> on tumblr if you need/want anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oatmeal Cookies

**Author's Note:**

> so here we are! another multichap, another 'verse. 
> 
> huge huge huge thank you to jo for being my wonderful beta and helping me with teething problems.

If there were two things Ian Gallagher had always wanted in life, they were stability and simplicity.

Growing up, it had felt like everything was moving a thousand miles a second, and that he was being pulled in twenty different directions at once. Things were hectic, to say the least. The Gallagher matriarch, Monica, had up and left when Ian was ten, and that threw things into even more of a loop than they had already been.

Ian’s supposed parents seemed to care little for their offspring, spending as much money as they could on alcohol and drugs, and leaving for days to go on benders. The responsibility of running a household of five minors fell to Ian’s oldest sister, Fiona. She had to drop out of school in order to take care of the four younger kids, and even though it fucking sucked for her, it provided more stability than the five of them had had with Frank and Monica at the helm.

Fiona had been forced to grow up too fast, and where she should’ve been out at night, partying and getting groped by gross teenage boys, she spent her time budgeting to the last cent, and working her ass off, just to get food on the table.

It meant that the five of them – and eventually, six, after Monica dropped another kid and ran – grew close, and made a badass team. That was the most stable place Ian had ever known himself to be.

Simplicity, though. That was significantly harder to come by. He had his routine, set with the markers of shifts at the Kash ‘n’ Grab, ROTC training, and school, but everything else? It was crazy. One day they were concocting master plans to return stolen babies, and the next they were contemplating cutting off the toe of a dead woman. All the while, Ian and his siblings had to deal with their father’s ridiculous antics, and the drifting of their mother, in and out of their lives, and sorting the messes that were left in her wake.

So, yeah. Stability, Ian knew a bit of. Simplicity… not so much.

He spent most of his formative teenage years fucking every gay guy in the Southside he could find, and trying not to be beat up for it, then the latter part of those years, trying to come to terms with the fact that he had Bipolar disorder, the same as his mother. Turns out, the shitty genetics that made Monica think she could fly, and want to jump off a roof to test her theory she was a bird, had been passed on to Ian.

It made the stability and simplicity all the more important, and yet he was still searching for it.

After leaving high school, Ian had gone to college and majored in the only thing he had really been good at: English. (There wasn’t an option to major in Ass Reaming or Go-go Dancing, but if there had, he probably would’ve picked one of those instead.) He got qualified to teach in a high school, hoped like hell that he could be an influential teacher for some unruly kids, and took up a job opportunity in Seattle.

He hoped that maybe this would finally bring him the peace, stability and simplicity he so desperately wanted. Needed.

But he didn’t count on meeting the devastatingly handsome Alexei Lysenko.

 

* * *

 

‘Yev,’ Mickey called down the hall of his small apartment. ‘You ready for school?’

‘Yep!’ Yevgeny appeared from his bedroom, his _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ backpack clenched in his tiny hand.

‘Good,’ Mickey smiled and gave the boy his lunchbox; full of tasty snacks, and a surprisingly well made sandwich. ‘Now, if people ask, who’s your favourite ninja turtle?’

‘Mikey,’ Yev grinned. ‘Because he has nunchucks.’

‘That’s right,’ Mickey nodded. He took the boy’s beanie from the counter and pulled it down over his dark, floppy hair. ‘And what’s your name?’

‘Yevgeny Lysenko,’ Yev said, looking to his father for confirmation.

Mickey sighed. ‘Yeah, that’s right, kid. Got your pencils and everything?’

‘Yep.’

‘A’ight. Let’s go then.’ Mickey flexed his fingers, making sure the makeup on his knuckles held – not that he was expecting anything other than for it to stay how it was. This morning he had applied the concealer on his knuckle tattoos in the same way he had been doing for the past four years. Svetlana had taught him that. This shit was pro, and took a scrubbing brush and some serious elbow grease to get off, sometimes.

Mickey checked that _he_ had everything he would need for the day, including his bag of files and the shitty, work provided laptop, and swung the strap over his shoulder.

‘I’m gonna be late!’ Yev whined impatiently from the door.

Mickey rolled his eyes at his son’s behaviour. ‘Fuckin’ eager for school. You’re not a Milkovich.’

‘What’s a Milkovich?’

‘Don’t worry, kid.’ Mickey took his keys off the hook by the door and patted his pockets for his phone, double checking it was there. ‘Okay, time for school.’

‘Yay!’ Yev said happily, twirling around Mickey’s legs and out the open door.

Mickey shook his head and locked the door, following Yev to the elevator, and down to the carpark. Kid was so excited for school it made Mickey’s heart ache a little. He was so young, and full of life and enthusiasm, it would be a shame to see the educational system crush it out of him.

 

* * *

 

Ian felt like he was going to throw up, he was so fucking nervous. This was his first real teaching job, and that combined with the fact that he was in a completely new city, a place he knew _no one_ , was fucking daunting. He had barely slept last night, too pumped full of adrenaline and anticipation to get more than a couple hours.

He had been in Seattle for just under three weeks, and had scoped out the most important things – a nearby grocery store, a gym, his new workplace, and a decent coffee shop. He had definitely stumbled upon the coffee shop by accident, because he was lost and looking for the fucking gym, but the little, out of the way shop looked promising, so he had gone in and ordered his usual _black with one sugar_ coffee.

It made him kinda glad the maps app he had was fucking useless, because this was the best damn coffee he had ever tasted. He marked the place on his map and crossed his fingers that it would bring him back. It did, thank God, so Ian was able to get some morning caffeine that would _hopefully_ perk him up enough to last to the end of the school day. He’d probably end up saying _“fuck it”_ and ditching whatever paperwork he would inevitably have so he could fall asleep on his couch, only to wake up covered in paper and with pen on his face.

Ian left his bag in his shitty little car, and ran inside, hoping the shop would be nearly empty, because even though school didn’t start for almost forty minutes, he didn’t want to make a bad impression and be late to his first day.

There were only a couple of people in line in front of him, so he made it quickly to the counter and ordered, deciding to get an oatmeal cookie from in the window as well. As he waited for his coffee to be made, he stood at the side of the counter, and started eating his cookie, because why the fuck not?

‘Those things are like rocks,’ someone said from beside Ian.

He turned and saw a short guy (shorter than him, anyway) with dark, slightly messy hair, and bright blue eyes. Ian swallowed and tried to appear nonchalant as he finished accidentally checking the guy out. ‘Doesn’t seem hard.’

‘I meant flavour,’ the guy said, arching a dark brow.

‘Have you tasted rocks?’ Ian asked.

‘Yeah, wouldn’t recommend it.’ He held up his own paper bag and nodded to the glass window. ‘Get an apricot chocolate one if you’re into healthy shit but actually want something _good_.’

‘Oatmeal _is_ good!’

‘I feel sorry for your taste buds.’

‘My taste buds have witnessed worse things than this,’ Ian grinned. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Ian?’ the coffee guy said.

Ian took the tall cup of coffee and smiled apologetically. ‘Your name’s not Ian, too, right? That would be weird.’

‘Nah, I’m –’

‘Alex?’ coffee guy called, reappearing at Ian’s elbow.

Cookie dude – apparently called Alex – took the cup and held it up to show off the messy handwriting. ‘Alex.’

‘Oh, cool,’ Ian nodded. ‘Short for Alexander?’

‘Alexei.’

‘Really? Are you…’

‘Russian?’ Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Ukrainian. My Ma named me after her grandfather or some shit.’

‘Oh…’ Ian dithered awkwardly. ‘I don’t know why my Mom named me Ian. Maybe after her dealer, or something.’

Alex shook his head. ‘A dealer named Ian wouldn’t get much traffic.’

Ian snorted as they mutually headed for the exit to the coffee shop. ‘Can confirm almost the exact opposite,’ he muttered.

Alex gave him an incredulous look. ‘Really?’

‘I was seventeen,’ Ian said, looking at the ground and kicking at a shoe. He didn’t know why he was telling a complete stranger this. ‘Seemed like a good idea at the time.’

‘We’ve all been there, man,’ Alex shrugged and checked his phone. ‘Shit, I gotta go. Don’t wanna let my kids down.’

‘Your kids?’

‘Youth worker… kinda,’ Alex explained. ‘Might see you around.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Ian smiled. ‘Nice to meet you.’

Alex nodded and smiled, and headed down the street to dark, slightly beat up Jeep, leaving Ian to look after him and feel like some sort of stalker as he watched Alex drive off.

Ian got back into his own car and put his cup in the centre console. He started up his car and checked the time in the dashboard. ‘Oh, fuck,’ he groaned. He had twenty minutes to get to the high school, find his classroom, and set up all his shit.

With any luck, he wouldn’t get fucking lost again.

 

* * *

 

As Ian skidded his car into the staff carpark – a _complete_ accident – he had ten minutes to navigate his way through foreign territory and find his classroom. A member of the admin team had so helpfully emailed him a series of documents, including a map, so Ian whipped his phone out and opened the PDF quickly, allowing him to make his way through the halls and into his classroom, without making a single wrong turn.

Ian could probably thank the incredible sense of direction he had gained through ROTC or something, but right now, he was too frazzled to do much more than swing his bag onto the swivel chair behind the desk, and yank out his essentials.

His laptop was opened and booted up, a pile of papers was put down next to it, and he dumped some stationery bits and pieces into the drawers on the left hand side of the desk. The top drawer became home to a spare phone charger, pens, sticky notes, and the stress ball his doctor had recommended – just in case he felt like he was going to combust with the pressure of being a young teacher in his first real teaching job.

Ian’s class filed in, just as he had finished his coffee and thrown the paper cup into the bin at the end of his desk. He dithered about, going between standing against the board, leaning against his desk, and sitting in his chair, as he waited for the class to organise themselves. He should probably make a seating chart or something.

The class settled down of their own accord and watched Ian expectantly.

‘Uh… Okay.’ Ian cleared his throat and smiled out at his class. ‘I’m Mr Gallagher, the new English teacher, and now _your_ teacher, I suppose.’

‘He’s totally hot,’ a girl with short, black hair whispered to her friend. She gave Ian an appreciative once over from her spot in the second row and winked at him.

‘So, I guess we’ll just start with any questions you want to ask me? About this semester’s curriculum or otherwise, I’m not fussed.’ Ian looked out across his small sea of students, and wished he could say he was surprised when the girl raised her hand. ‘Yes..?’

‘Kate,’ the girl provided, flashing Ian a smile. ‘How old are you?’

‘I’m twenty three. Anyone else?’

‘Where are you from? Not Seattle, right?’ her friend asked.

‘Nope, Chicago,’ Ian said, smiling fondly at his memories of home. ‘Southside, born and raised.’

‘Are you single?’ Kate said, interrupting whatever someone else had been about to say. Clearly, Kate was all about asking the hard hitting questions.

Ian resisted the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Irrelevant, but yes.’

Kate perked up and seemed to up whatever flirting game she had been playing. She quickly started twirling a section of hair around her finger. ‘Do girls not like you or something?’

‘No, no. Girls like me.’ _I just don’t like them back._ These kids didn’t need to know that Ian was gay, and he would try to keep it that way. For now, at least.

Kate nodded, and whispered something to her friend. They giggled, and Ian ignored them, turning his attention to the rest of the class.

‘Okay, anything else?’ Ian asked. ‘Because if not, then I suppose we’ll get started on the first module.’

 

* * *

 

Ian’s day flew by, and at the end of it, he had counted at least three different girls who had tried to flirt with him. There might have been a very nervous, stuttering fifteen year old trying to make his way closer to getting in Ian’s pants as well, but who the fuck knew what he was trying to do, honestly.

At the end of the day, Ian scooped his shit into his bag, and was out the door a few minutes after his last class. He locked his door, and as he fumbled with his keys, trying to detach them from where they had _somehow_ caught onto the fabric of his bag, he turned and bumped right into someone.

‘Shit, sorry,’ Ian said, looking up from his bag to be met with the ever raised eyebrows of the dude from the coffee shop. ‘Oh, hey!’

‘Hey, yourself. You stalkin’ me?’ the guy – what was his name again? – asked.

‘Uh, no. I, ah, this is my classroom,’ Ian gestured at the door behind him and smiled apologetically. ‘Sorry, what was your name?’

‘Ouch, Ian. I’m offended,’ the guy laughed. ‘Alex.’

‘Alex.’ Ian nodded. ‘Alexei, Alex.’

‘That would be me. Are you leaving?’

‘Yeah, carpark.’

‘A’ight, come on. You’ll probably get lost,’ Alex said, heading in the direction Ian was pretty sure he _hadn’t_ come from this morning.

‘What are you doing here?’ Ian asked, hoping Alex heard him over the noise of a hundred teenagers, all engaged in their own conversations.

‘Told you this morning. I work with “the youth”.’

‘Huh?’

Alex grabbed his arm and pulled him down a much quieter hallway, continuing to walk, like he knew exactly where he was going. Most likely, because he did. ‘I work with troubled and “at risk” kids,’ he explained. ‘I’m supposed to point them in the right direction, help them with their schoolwork and shit, and keep them from joining gangs. Rehabilitate them before they get sent to juvie, or help reintegrate them after they come out.’

‘Oh, wow,’ Ian said, not expecting that in the slightest. ‘You like it?’

Alex shrugged. ‘I have a way with the kids, apparently. Very few of the ones I work with go through and join in on illegal activities again.’

‘That must be… satisfying,’ Ian said, as they entered a stairwell and went down a few flights in silence.

When they reached the bottom and emerged into another mostly empty hall, Alex turned to him and said quietly, ‘It’s not so much “satisfying” as it is a feeling of relief.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

‘How’d you know?’ Ian asked. When Alex visibly tensed, Ian sighed. ‘Sorry. Ignore that.’

‘Was planning on it,’ Alex muttered. He pointed ahead and said, ‘That’s the main entrance.’

‘Well, I’ll be damned. Did you just show me the super secret back way?’

‘Yup. Don’t be surprised if you walk in on teenagers dry humping and grinding sometimes.’

‘Ah, teenage love,’ Ian sighed nostalgically. (Though he really wouldn’t count any of his teenage fuck buddies as a “teenage love”. Kash definitely didn’t fall under that category – he was about twenty years too old to be classified as a teenager, and it was more of mutual infatuation and lack of options.)

‘Disgusting, right?’ Alex said, grimacing at whatever image was in his head.

‘How old are you, dude?’ Ian asked, as they left the school building and made their way towards the staff carpark.

‘Twenty five.’

‘Jesus, you’re barely out of _your_ teenage years, and you sound like a grumpy old man.’

‘Fuckin’ feel like a grumpy old man,’ Alex rolled his shoulders, and Ian heard a weird clicking noise. ‘Arm giving me fuckin’ trouble, and the kid doesn’t help with all his _“Do the rocket ship!”_ shit.’

Ian blinked. ‘The kid?’

‘Yeah, my son. Yevgeny. He’s six.’

‘Oh.’

‘What? Got something against teenagers having kids or something?’

‘No, absolutely not, provided they can look after them properly… and I’m digging myself into a hole, but I’m sure you and your son and girlfriend or whatever are perfectly fine and you’re all doing very well,’ Ian finished quickly, scavenging through his bag for his car keys for something to do.

‘It’s just me and the kid,’ Alex mumbled. ‘Since he was two.’

‘Oh…’ Ian looked up. ‘I won’t ask.’

‘Thanks.’

Ian studied Alex’s face as subtly as he could, and saw he was trying to hide the fact that he was upset by this little tidbit of information, and the memories that went with it. ‘Shouldn’t you be picking him up? Your son?’

Alex shook his head. ‘My neighbour’s got a kid who goes to the same school, so she brings him home and looks after him until I get back.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Babysits him when I go out, too,’ Alex added, looking at Ian from the side of his eye.

‘Cool,’ Ian nodded, noting that they had walked past his car a few moments ago. ‘I’ll let you go. I should get home and do stuff.’

‘A’ight,’ Alex smiled. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘Yeah, you too,’ Ian said, returning the smile easily and turning around to go back to his car. He stopped abruptly and spun round to face Alex’s retreating form. ‘Hey!’ he called. ‘What’s your last name?’

Alex stopped and came back towards Ian. ‘What?’

‘What’s your last name? I didn’t catch it this morning and I feel kinda weird not knowing.’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Lysenko.’

‘Lysenko,’ Ian repeated. ‘I’m Ian Gallagher.’

‘Okay, great. Feel better?’ Alex asked.

Ian smiled and nodded. ‘Much.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Alex muttered, turning on his heel and heading back to his car.

‘Bye, Alex Lysenko!’

‘See ya, Gallagher,’ Alex threw back over his shoulder. ‘Don’t stalk me again!’

‘I’ll do my best!’ Ian replied, going to his car and climbing in.

As he started up the piece-of-shit-mobile, Ian tried to ignore the little sinking feeling he got, that the guy he might’ve started developing a crush on was quite possibly not gay. Not like he couldn’t have a biological kid _because_ he was gay, but Alex seemed sad at not being with his kid’s mom anymore. Ian prayed to God that Alex was bi or something. Maybe _then_ there could still be a possibility of something happening between them.

Then again, maybe Ian would just have to get the fuck over himself and push his crush down, and to the back of his mind.

Alex Lysenko was nice to look at, nice to talk to, and seemed to have a feisty side to him. Ian liked it, but maybe he’d have to stick to liking it as a friend.

 

* * *

 

As Mickey drove back to his apartment, he didn’t know why it bothered him so much that was telling this Ian Gallagher dude his name was Alex Lysenko. He had gone by the name for four years, now, and it had never made him feel strange to tell people he was someone he wasn’t. He thought he had heard something in Ian’s voice that reminded him of home – of the Southside. Maybe that was why it was making him feel weird.

He didn’t think Ian knew who he was, because if he did, he would’ve run for the hills already. Ian was safe, and for some reason, Mickey just didn’t want to lie to him.

He knew, however, that he had to. It wasn’t just his ass he was covering, it was Yev’s as well; and Mickey wasn’t going to do anything that could risk his kid getting hurt. Ian Gallagher would just have to know him as Alexei Lysenko, because there was no alternative.

Besides, it wasn’t like he was ever going to find out.


	2. RSI?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Thank God,’ Ian said, letting out a relieved sigh. ‘I was beginning to wonder how much someone would need to like… do that, in order to develop RSI.’  
> Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘RSI, huh?’  
> ‘Yeah, you know, Repetitive Strain Injury? RSI? Caused by repeating the same action over and over, enough to cause harm to your muscles…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to mention, but ian and mickey have never met. ian and mandy have never met. it should be pretty evident, but just in case it's not... yeah.

Mickey tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach as he rode the elevator up to the floor his apartment was on. It was completely stupid and absolutely irresponsible for him to be focusing so heavily on having given Ian his fake name. Why did he care so much what Ian knew or didn’t know? Maybe it was because Ian reminded him of home, and there, everyone knew who he was.

But by _no_ means was Mickey going to destroy the life he had rebuilt for him and Yev, just because he was getting all nostalgic from talking to Ian. Fuck, Mickey needed to get a grip. This was the kind of thinking that would get someone killed.

More specifically, the kind of thinking that would get _him and Yev_ killed.

He yawned as he stepped off the elevator, and walked down the hall to his neighbour’s door. He knocked a couple of times and heard some scuffling on the other side.

‘Hi, Alex,’ his neighbour, a blonde named Chelsea, greeted. ‘Yev? Your dad is here!’ she called back into the apartment.

‘Daddy!’ Yev squeaked, flying past Chelsea and out the door, attaching himself to Mickey’s legs.

‘Hey, buddy,’ Mickey smiled, ruffling his son’s hair. ‘How was school?’

‘Great! We did painting!’

‘Sounds pretty cool.’

‘It was!’ Yev nodded. ‘I’ll show you!’

‘Okay. Say thank you to Chelsea for looking after you?’ Mickey suggested.

‘Thank you Chellie,’ Yev said, grinning happily at his part time babysitter.

‘You’re welcome,’ Chelsea smiled. ‘Need me to bring him back tomorrow?’

Mickey nodded. ‘If that’s okay.’

‘Absolutely. I’ll see you tomorrow.’

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Mickey nodded, hauling Yev over to their door as Chelsea shut hers. ‘Yev, get off my leg, please.’

‘But _Dad_ , I missed you!’ Yev protested.

‘Oh, really?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you wanna show me your painting?’

Yev brightened and let go of Mickey’s leg, dropping his bag on the floor as they stepped into the apartment, and searching through it. ‘Here!’ he said, holding a piece of paper out to his father. He pointed at a messy black blob and said, ‘That’s you…’ he moved his fingertip to a smaller, green blob. ‘That’s me!’

‘What’s this one?’ Mickey asked, pointing at an orange dot.

‘That’s Mike!’

‘The goldfish, Mike?’

‘Yup!’

Mickey nodded and walked over to the fridge, slapping the paper under a giraffe magnet. ‘Looks just like him.’

Yev preened at Mickey’s thinly veiled praise of his work. He nodded and said happily, ‘I know.’

‘Yeah, whatever, Picasso,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Get your butt over to the piano. Time to practice.’

Yev grimaced and rolled his eyes, but he stalked over and clambered up onto the stool. He started slamming his hands angrily on the keys, but stopped immediately when he heard Mickey clear his throat. Yev looked up sheepishly and started playing little scales. ‘Dad,’ he whined.

Mickey shook his head. ‘Do your practice, and I’ll play something later, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Yev sighed.

Mickey listened to Yev doing his piano practice, and idly tapped his fingers along on the kitchen bench, as he perused the cupboards for what he could make for dinner. He could hardly believe this was his life now – Mickey making dinner while Yev practiced piano scales, a finger painting on his fridge, having a fucking _goldfish_. God knows Mickey Milkovich was a tough motherfucker, and now he was domesticated.

This was not the life he had been brought up with, not the life he had brought a child into, and had been completely foreign to him, up until a few years ago. It was weird, and while Mickey had adjusted, just like he had been taught to, he still wasn’t used to it.

‘Dad?’ Yev’s little voice said from behind Mickey.

Mickey turned around from where he had been staring blankly into the cupboards. ‘Yeah?’

‘Tomorrow we have to bring cookies to class.’

‘Why?’

‘I can’t remember.’

Mickey sighed and shut the cupboards. ‘A’ight. Should we go get some, then?’

‘Yep,’ Yev paused and bit his lip, twisting his hands in front of him. ‘Can I get a happy meal?’

Mickey tilted his head and studied his son’s movements. ‘Do you actually need cookies, Yev?’

‘…No.’

Mickey quirked his mouth into a half smile. Little fucker tryna con Mickey Milkovich into buying cookies, just so he could stop on the way home and get take out for dinner. ‘So you just want a happy meal?’

Yev smiled innocently. ‘Yes please.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Did you finish practicing?’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay then,’ Mickey grabbed his keys and his wallet, and headed for the door. ‘You wanna go now, then?’

Yev grinned as he trotted over to his father, and out the open door. Little shit.

 

* * *

 

‘Hi, Ian!’ Fiona greeted brightly, once Ian accepted her Skype call. ‘How was your first day?’

Ian yawned and sat slowly on his couch, nestling into his cushions. ‘Good. The kids are okay, but they keep flirting with me.’

Fiona laughed. ‘Turn up with a wedding ring on?’

‘They already know I’m _unattached_ ,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Like, “Hi kids, yeah, I know I said I was single, but we were just going through a rough patch and I would consider myself _married_ again.” Not gonna work, Fi.’

‘Damn. I suppose you’ll just have to deal with it, then,’ she shrugged. ‘Probably not the most appropriate conversation to be having with students in the first place, though.’

‘Note to self: don’t say “ask me anything” ever again,’ Ian groaned.

‘How was the rest of your day?’

Ian smiled and cleared his throat. ‘I met a cute guy at the coffee shop, and then bumped into him at school outside my class.’

‘Oh really?’ Fiona asked, sounding intrigued. ‘Tell me he’s not a student.’

‘No, no. He’s… I think he said he works with kids who are floating in and out of juvie and helps steer them the right way, or something.’

‘Wow, that’s pretty cool.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Think he’s interested in you?’

Ian’s expression darkened and he sunk lower into his couch. ‘I don’t even know if he’s gay.’

‘Is he single?’

‘Uh…’ Ian wracked his brain, trying to remember if Alex had ever actually said. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, I’d recommend you start by doing some re-con and finding out.’

‘Don’t know if there’s a point.’

‘Why not?’

‘He’s got a kid –’

‘Is that a deal breaker?’ Fiona interrupted, raising her eyebrows at Ian’s tone.

‘No, absolutely not!’ Ian protested. ‘Jesus, Fi. But he sounded really upset that he’s not with the kid’s mom anymore, so I don’t know if there’s a point in finding out if he’s single, because he probably isn’t gay.’

‘You don’t know that for sure, though, do you?’ Fiona pointed out. ‘You don’t know his life, Ian.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ian sighed. ‘He’s really cute, though, and it would be a huge shame if I didn’t get to… y’know.’

Fiona wrinkled her nose. ‘Yeah, and we’re not going into details, thanks. How cute?’

‘Like… adorable, cute. But with a grumpy exterior? He’s shorter than me by a few inches, and he’s got dark hair, blue eyes, nice hands…’ Ian smiled happily.

‘How old?’

‘He’s twenty something. Twenty five, I think he said.’

‘Holy shit, he’s actually _your_ age?’

‘Fuck off,’ Ian blushed. ‘But yeah.’

‘Well, sounds like you don’t have much to lose,’ Fiona said, tucking a section of hair behind her ear. ‘I think you should go for it.’

‘Hmm,’ Ian rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘I might just… I don’t know. I’ll just let things happen.’

‘Good plan,’ Fiona nodded. ‘Report back, because I gotta go.’

‘Will do,’ Ian smiled. ‘See you later.’

Fiona gave him an encouraging thumbs up and ended the call, leaving Ian to fumble his way through the new problem in his life.

What the fuck, though? Ian shouldn’t even have cared. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a steady stream of guys throwing themselves at his feet. Why was he so intent on going after a guy who was _probably_ straight, and who he had known for less than twenty four hours?

It didn’t even make sense to him, if he was completely honest. For now, Ian got started on lesson plans and organising materials for the next couple of days.

 

* * *

 

‘Daddy?’ Yev said quietly, calling Mickey back to his room after having been tucked in for the night.

‘Yeah, bud?’ Mickey said, pausing at the door to Yev’s room.

‘Tell me a story.’

‘What about?’ Mickey asked, coming to sit on the end of Yev’s bed.

Yev thought for a few seconds, fidgeting with the edge of his covers, before looking up to his father and saying, ‘Home.’

‘We are home.’

‘The other home.’

Mickey sighed and straightened Yev’s covers, smoothing out all the creases. ‘Do you remember home?’

‘No.’

‘Well, me and your mama weren’t happy, so we decided to leave.’

‘But Mama couldn’t come.’

‘No,’ Mickey murmured. ‘She couldn’t.’

Yev nodded. ‘Tell me a story.’

‘About home?’

‘No, about… A prince.’

‘A prince?’ Mickey nodded. ‘Okay. Well, once upon a time, there was a really brave prince, and he had a lot of brothers and a sister. The prince and his sister were best friends, and they did lots of things together.’

‘Like what?’

‘They climbed trees, and went horse riding, and they played games,’ Mickey smiled. ‘The prince and his sister grew up, and were still best friends, and then the prince had to get married, so he didn’t get to spend as much time with his sister anymore.’

‘Was he sad?’ Yev asked in a tiny voice.

‘Yeah. He was pretty sad, but he got to be really good friends with the new princess.’

‘His wife?’

‘Mhmm. The prince and his wife were good friends.’

‘What happened to the princess?’

‘Well,’ Mickey rubbed the back of his neck and yawned. ‘The princess was sad she didn’t get to see her brother much anymore, but she didn’t mind, because she knew that they couldn’t be best friends forever. The princess got married, too, to a prince from a faraway land, and they became friends.’

‘So everyone lived happily ever after?’

 _No one ever lives happily ever after._ ‘Yeah, bud. They all lived happily ever after.’

Yev smiled and hugged his stuffed toy dinosaur closer. ‘That’s good.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey agreed. ‘It is.’

‘Night, Daddy,’ Yev mumbled, as his eyes slid shut. Apparently Mickey’s shitty fairytale was just what he had needed.

‘Night, kid,’ Mickey murmured, standing and kissing his son’s forehead, before leaving the room again.

He hated lying to Yev about happily ever afters, but God knows that the truth was far from being PG-rated, and Mickey’s reality had always been the stuff of nightmares. Yev would learn the truth when he was old enough, but that wouldn’t be for a few years. If Mickey could help it, he would never find out. Maybe it was the only way to protect him, but on the other hand – if Mickey wanted to protect Yev, he would probably _have_ to tell him.

He didn’t exactly have that day circled on his calendar as something to look forward to.

 

* * *

 

When Ian left home the next morning, he wondered if Alex would be at the coffee shop again, or if he would be at school later. It vaguely registered somewhere in the back of his head that he really shouldn’t care, but he pushed that voice down and ignored it in favour of calculating the probability of either instance occurring.

There was fuck all point in trying to figure out the odds, because there was a reason Ian taught English, as opposed to anything Math related. He fucking sucked at it, and even with a calculator, he had no fucking clue what he was doing.

He decided to leave it up to fate, and tried not to be too disappointed when Alex was nowhere to be seen in the coffee shop. Ian did, however, buy an apricot chocolate cookie instead of an oatmeal one, and had to admit that it was fucking good. He kind of felt like he was cheating on his oatmeal cookies, but fuck it, Ian was a rational adult with his life in order, so if cookie woes were the worst things he was dealing with, then he was doing pretty fucking good.

Ian arrived at school a bit earlier than he needed to, because he wanted to see if he could remember the back way to his classroom that Alex had shown him the day before. (And yeah, he might’ve been hoping that he would bump into Alex in the hallway, but he was consciously ignoring the fact.)

He made it to his classroom without incident, and decided he didn’t care, because he was way too hung up on a guy he had known for one day. Best to nip his crush in the bud and get the fuck over himself, because what the fuck was he doing right now? Maybe he should go out tonight and find someone to fuck, and work out all of this weird sexual frustration he was carting around.

Or maybe not. It was only Tuesday, after all. Bit of a risky day to try and find a good looking guy.

 

* * *

 

_Knock knock._

Ian looked up from his salad, where he had been scavenging for croutons, and saw Alex standing at his door. The fuck? Ian swallowed his half-heartedly chewed lettuce and smiled, quickly wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. Charming. ‘Hi.’

‘Hey,’ Alex smiled. ‘You weren’t in the staffroom.’

‘Nah, trying to keep on top of everything,’ Ian said, waving his hands over the papers spread over his desk. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Checking in,’ Alex explained, sitting on top of a table opposite Ian. ‘How’re you holding up?’

‘Good. Bit surprised I’m behind on this stuff and it’s only the second day.’

Alex laughed. ‘Yeah, you gotta get a system in place to get through everything.’

‘How long have you been doing… whatever it is that you do,’ Ian asked, figuring it was safe to go back to his food.

‘Almost four years,’ Alex said. ‘Started after me and the kid got to Seattle.’

‘Yeah, I noticed you kind of have an accent,’ Ian smiled. ‘Chicago?’

Something akin to panic flashed across Alex’s features, before they were quickly schooled back to cool nonchalance. ‘Nah, New York.’

‘Oh. You sound kind of Chicagoan.’

Alex shook his head. ‘Coincidence, I guess. Born and raised in Buffalo.’

‘Cool,’ Ian nodded. ‘What got you started in it?’

‘What got you started in _this_?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Army was a bust after I got diagnosed, and English is the only thing I’m good at, apart from fucking and rimming.’ Ian froze as he processed what he just said. _Oh shit._ ‘Let’s pretend I didn’t say that.’

Alex laughed. ‘Rimming is one of your greatest skills? Man, what the fuck?’

‘Hey, rimming is an _art_ ,’ Ian said defensively. ‘I’d show you, but there’s only twenty minutes left.’ _Oh my God, stop talking._

Alex raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, yeah? Maybe tomorrow.’

Ian cleared his throat and broke his gaze from Alex’s. ‘Not exactly school appropriate.’

‘Shame.’

‘Really though,’ Ian said, digging through his salad for tasty things. ‘What made you do all your youth work stuff?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Dunno. Didn’t think I’d like it at first, but now that I’m doing it, I really love it.’

Ian smiled. ‘What’s the worst thing you’ve ever heard of your kids doing?’

‘That’s probably classified.’

‘You’d have to kill me?’

‘Nah, sets a bad example,’ Alex said, flashing Ian a grin. ‘I’d get someone else to.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ian laughed. ‘So, uh…’ Ian sifted through his head for something to talk about, and ended up lamely saying, ‘I got one of those apricot and chocolate things from the coffee shop this morning.’

‘Oh yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What did you think? Good, right?’

Ian nodded. ‘So good. I felt a bit bad for not having my oatmeal one, though.’

‘Sometimes you gotta hurt feelings when you do something for yourself,’ Alex snorted and rubbed his shoulder. ‘Even if you’re hurting the feelings of a piece of _baking_.’

‘Suppose you’re right. How did you hurt your arm? If I’m allowed to ask.’

‘I jerked off a lot in my youth.’ When Ian’s eyes widened, and a piece of cucumber fell out of his mouth (the most attractive thing ever to happen to Ian in his life), Alex grinned and laughed. ‘I’m joking, man.’

‘Thank God,’ Ian said, letting out a relieved sigh. ‘I was beginning to wonder how much someone would need to like… do that, in order to develop RSI.’

Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘RSI, huh?’

‘Yeah, you know, Repetitive Strain Injury? RSI? Caused by repeating the same action over and over, enough to cause harm to your muscles…’

Alex was about to say something else, when Ian realised what he had just implied. ‘Oh my God! Oh my God, not that I’m thinking about your dick? Or you, like, touching – fuck, Jesus Christ. I’m not thinking about it, but now I really am, and fuck –’

‘Gallagher,’ Alex interrupted, holding up a hand to silence Ian. ‘Stop.’

Ian bit his lip and tried to keep his mouth shut, but felt a blush creeping over his entire body, and the top of a shaken soda bottle is bound to explode off eventually. ‘I’m so fucking sorry, oh my God, Alex, I’m so sorry. Let’s pretend I’m not sitting here thinking about dicks, or _touching_ dicks, or _your_ dick, specifically. Because I’m not. I’m not thinking about dicks.’

‘Ian –’

‘I swear to God, I’m not thinking about dicks right now.’

‘I was joking.’

‘I’m… dicks.’ Ian blinked as his mind processed what Alex had just said. And that he had just been talking about dicks for the past several minutes, which was apparently completely unwarranted, but now he really _was_ thinking about dicks, and Alex’s hand wrapped around his own, and Alex’s hand around Ian’s… His mouth, with those beautiful lips…

‘Gallagher?’ Alex said, interrupting Ian’s train of thought. (Train of dicks, more like.) ‘Earth to Ian?’

‘Hmm?’ Ian said. ‘What?’

Alex laughed quietly. ‘I tore a muscle in my shoulder when I was sixteen by throwing a ball around with my brothers.’

‘Oh.’

‘No dicks involved. Unless you count my brothers, who kind of are dicks.’

Ian smiled awkwardly. ‘Sorry about that. My sister says I have this problem where I tend to open my mouth and shove my foot in.’

‘I noticed.’

‘I’m really, really sorry.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alex said dismissively. ‘Maybe you could –’

Ian missed the rest of Alex’s sentence, as the bell right outside his classroom went off. He waited for the ringing to subside before he smiled apologetically at Alex again. He was doing that a lot, today. ‘Sorry, what were you saying?’

Alex shook his head and slid off the desk. ‘Never mind.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ Ian nodded and tidied up his unfinished salad, shoving the box unceremoniously back into his bag. ‘Um, see you later?’

‘I’ve only got one more kid to get to, today. I’m leaving in an hour and a half.’

‘Maybe not then.’

Alex laughed. ‘Not today. Tomorrow.’

‘Okay, great.’

‘Bring me one of those cookies from the coffee shop to apologise for the freakout about dicks?’

Ian blushed and hid his face in his hands. ‘Mmkay.’

‘Bye, Gallagher.’

Ian waved his hand at him, and when he dared look out from behind his hands, Alex was gone. He didn’t know why he was expecting him to still be there.

 

* * *

 

‘Fiona, fuck, oh my God.’

‘Ian?’ Fiona asked, looking at him with concern. ‘What happened? Are you okay?’

‘I talked to him about dicks!’ Ian moaned, whacking his head against the back of his couch.

‘Wait, what? Talked about dicks with who?’

‘Alex!’ Ian cried. ‘He made a joke, and I thought he was serious… and I started talking at him about dicks! About _his_ dick!’

‘Is this the cute and grumpy juvie dude?’ Fiona asked, tilting her head in amusement.

‘Yes!’

‘The guy you’re trying to get with?’

‘Obviously!’

‘And you talked about dicks,’ Fiona nodded and sighed in resignation. ‘That’s definitely one way to hint that you’re gay.’

Ian paused, as if he was remembering something, before he whispered, ‘Oh no.’

‘What?’

‘I told him how great I am at rimming,’ Ian said in horror. ‘Oh no, he knows I like to –’

‘Okay, _stop_ right there,’ Fiona interrupted, shaking her head and covering her ears. ‘I don’t want to hear about this.’

‘Fiona, I need your help!’

‘Um, well. If you want to discuss – fuck, I can’t even say it. If you need sex advice, ask Kev, or Vee, or something. I don’t know. I don’t want to discuss rimming with you.’

‘Fi –’

‘Ian, if you like this dude, then just ask him out for drinks or something. If he goes the super “No homo!” route, then say you meant as friends, and laugh your way out of the awkwardness,’ Fiona suggested. ‘You really can’t trump what you said today.’

‘Yeah, I mean… he said he wants to see me tomorrow.’

Fiona could hardly believe her ears. ‘Are you joking?’

Ian frowned. ‘What?’

Fiona rolled her eyes at her idiot brother. He wasn’t picking up on that signal, was he? ‘Absolutely nothing.’

‘Can’t you just…’ Ian faltered. ‘Give me boy advice?’

‘You don’t need any.’

‘Yes, I really do.’

‘Ian, you are a boy. You know boys can be stupid. Right now, you are the boy being stupid,’ Fiona sighed and pulled her hair quickly back into a ponytail. ‘Look, as you said the other day, let the chips fall where they may, alright? Sounds like he’s got this, even if you don’t.’

‘Fi –’ Ian protested.

‘Nope, gotta go cook dinner for the rest,’ Fiona smiled happily at him. ‘Report back if you screw up again, or if something finally happens.’

Ian sighed. ‘Okay, okay. What are you making? I need some ideas for dinner.’

‘Mm… Spaghetti, I think.’

‘Damn, don’t think I have any in my apartment.’

‘Fuck, how are you even still alive? Go food shopping, Jesus Christ.’

‘Good idea. I should do that.’

‘Mhmm,’ Fiona raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Bye, Ian.’

‘Yeah, see you later, Fi. Say hi to everyone,’ Ian smiled.

‘Will do.’

Ian ended the call and shut his laptop. He put it on the couch beside him and slid down into his couch. Fucking hell, his crush on Alex was ridiculous, and it was making him act like a twelve year old girl. Made him kinda wonder if this was some weird ass, personality version of Freaky Friday. A child, trapped in the body of an adult.

It was then that Ian realised he would be Lindsay Lohan in the body of Jamie Lee Curtis. Well, shit.

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, Yev?’ Mickey said at dinner. They were eating dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets and those weird hash brown smiley face things, because they counted as a vegetable, right?

‘Yep?’ Yev replied, looking up from where he had been walking two nuggets across his plate.

‘Do you think I need friends?’

‘Everyone needs friends.’

Mickey sighed and bit the head off one of his own dinosaurs. He hated when Yev was right about stuff. ‘I don’t have any friends.’

‘You should get some,’ Yev shrugged, like that was the beginning and end of it all.

Pretty much was. Mandy would say the same thing, if she was here. Mickey didn’t want to get involved with anyone – as a friend or otherwise – because that way, if they needed to run, and run fast, then he would be leaving no loose ends. No one to call the cops and say that their friend _Alex Lysenko_ was missing.

It had only happened once, the running. They were somewhere in Texas, and Mickey got word that they were coming for him and Yev, so they packed their bags and left. They had only been gone a couple weeks at that point, and had been staying in some shitty motel, so it wasn’t like they were now.

They had an apartment, Yev had a school and _friends_ , and Mickey had a job he actually liked. Fuck, they even had a fucking goldfish. They were _this close_ to getting a cat, in all fucking honesty, because it looked like they would be here for a while.

So why couldn’t Mickey have friends? Why couldn’t Mickey have _more_ than a friend? Fuck it, Yev was right. Everyone needed friends.

And Mickey volunteered Ian as tribute.


	3. You Can Really Taste The Fair Trade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Yev, don’t use your hands to eat spaghetti,’ Mickey sighed tiredly.  
> Yev looked guiltily up at his father and wiped his hands on the paper towel Mickey had put beside his son’s plate in preparation for this occasion. ‘How do I eat it, then?’  
> ‘Twirl your fork,’ Mickey said, demonstrating with his own. ‘See?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to my baeta jo (see what i did there? omg) for going through this chapter bc i do not understand children speech. (and also for pointing out the importance of coffee in this fic which i hadn't actually realised...)

_‘Mickey…’_

_Mickey sat up sharply and saw he was in a blank, concrete room. A single lightbulb was hanging from the ceiling, swinging slowly back and forth, casting its erratic glow over the chair under it. Mickey frowned and stood up, walking cautiously towards the chair._

_‘Mickey…’_

_Mickey turned sharply, and heard his father’s laughter echo through the room._

_‘Mickey…’ Terry sang, drawing Mickey’s attention back to the chair. ‘I’ve got your son…’_

_‘Yev,’ Mickey whispered, rushing towards the chair, as a tiny head lifted to allow the lightbulb to illuminate his features. ‘Yev,’ Mickey repeated slightly louder, running to the chair._

_It felt like he was moving through wet sand. He was getting nowhere, and the chair was only getting further and further away, taking Yev with it._

_‘Yev!’ Mickey cried, reaching forwards to his son. ‘Yevgeny!’_

_‘Daddy!’ Yev called hoarsely. He tried to move his hands, but they were secured to the arms of the chair, and his feet were taped to the legs. ‘Daddy!’_

_‘Yev, I’m coming!’ Mickey felt water drip down his chin, and for a moment, he thought he was sweating, but as a new droplet wound its way into his mouth, he tasted metal, and knew it wasn’t water. It wasn’t sweat._

_‘Mickey, I’ve got your son,’ Terry repeated, appearing behind Yev’s chair._

_‘Don’t you fucking touch my son!’ Mickey screeched, breaking out of the sand and running forwards. He made it within a few feet of Yev and his father, before some kind of invisible barrier stopped him from getting any closer. He slammed his fists against the barrier, hoping he could break through._

_‘I’m going to find you, Mickey…’ Terry said, smiling evilly down at Yev. He drew a knife, cruel and sharp, from inside his jacket, and toyed with the blade, running the point across the back of the chair. ‘What do you think, huh? Should I have some fun?’_

_‘Don’t you fucking touch him!’ Mickey yelled. This time, when something wet made its way down his face, he knew it wasn’t blood, or sweat. This was salt, and these were tears Mickey was tasting now._

_‘Hmm…’ Terry lifted the knife and twisted it under the bulb dangling above his head, letting shards of light bounce off. He held the knife, almost like a pen, and held it to Yev’s arm. ‘I will find you, Mickey, and when I do…’ Terry drew the blade across Yev’s skin, splitting it open and letting ribbons of red flow out._

_Yev screeched and howled in pain, his own tears making clean paths through the dirt on his skin. ‘Daddy!’_

_‘Yev!’ Mickey yelled, banging his fists against the barrier again, powerless to stop his father from bringing his knife up to Yev’s face and cutting a deep red line over his cheek. ‘I’ll fucking kill you, Terry!’_

_‘Oh, will you?’ Terry asked, looking up from where he was wreaking havoc and pain upon his grandson and smiling at Mickey. ‘You’ll have to creep out of the woodwork first, won’t you?’_

_‘I don’t fucking care,’ Mickey snarled. ‘You touch my son and I will slit your fucking throat, old man.’_

_Terry dragged the knife slowly across Yev’s chest, slicing through the ragged t-shirt he was wearing. ‘Maybe, but not before I find your son.’_

_‘Do not touch my son.’_

_‘Daddy!’ Yev cried, pulling against his restraints and cowering away from the knife, forcing himself into the back of the chair._

_‘Yev! I’m coming, bud!’ Mickey said, trying to smile convincingly at Yev._

_‘Say “Goodbye, Daddy!”’ Terry said, smiling benignly at Mickey once more, before he moved the knife. ‘Say “Bye bye!” kid!’_

_‘Terry, I swear to God –’_

_‘You’ll kill me?’ Terry scoffed. ‘You’re too much of a pussy.’_

_Mickey narrowed his eyes. ‘I will kill you if you touch one more hair on that kid’s head.’_

_‘Oh, really?’ Terry sighed and patted Yev’s hair. ‘Whoops, touched a hair.’_

_Mickey made an incoherent, feral noise, and launched himself at the invisible barrier again. He clawed at it and cursed wildly at Terry, as his father just… stood there. He just stood behind Yev._

_And then he twirled the blood stained knife in his hand and lifted it to Yev’s throat. Terry pressed the flat of the blade against the soft flesh, and looked up to Mickey. He raised his eyebrows in challenge, and said, ‘I’m going to find you, Mickey. You and your half-breed son.’_

_‘You’ll never find us.’_

_‘You know me, boy. I won’t stop until I do.’ Terry sighed, and with a flick of his wrist, turned the knife and sliced across Yevgeny’s neck._

_‘Yev!’ Mickey cried, watching in horror as his son’s body went limp._

_Terry smiled and dropped the knife to the hard floor. ‘You want to kill me?’ he asked. ‘Come and get me, then.’_

_Mickey didn’t care that Terry was walking away. All he cared about was that his son was bleeding out before his eyes._

‘Yev!’ Mickey screamed, launching himself from his mattress and sitting up. His tank was damp and sticky with sweat, his breathing was laboured, and Mickey wasn’t entirely unconvinced that Terry didn’t have his son.

Mickey’s door was pushed open, creaking on the hinges, and the nightlight from the hallway backlit the small figure of his son. ‘Daddy?’

Mickey looked at his alarm clock, and saw _2:41_ in glowing yellow numbers. He rubbed at his eyes and swung his legs out over the side of his bed, planting his feet on the hardwood floors. ‘Sorry, kid.’

‘It’s okay,’ Yev walked over to his father and climbed up onto his bed. ‘You can borrow Spike if you want,’ he said, handing Mickey his stuffed dinosaur. ‘He’ll keep the bad dreams away.’

Mickey bit his lip and nodded as he accepted the toy. ‘Thanks, bud.’

Yev put his arms around Mickey’s chest as far as he could, and laid his head against his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry you had a bad dream.’

‘Not your fault,’ Mickey murmured, rubbing Yev’s arm and resting his head against his son’s.

‘I get bad dreams too, sometimes,’ Yev said quietly. ‘Sometimes there are witches chasing me because they want to feed me to their turtles.’

‘That sounds scary.’

‘It is,’ Yev agreed. ‘I think yours are scarier.’

_Mine might become a reality._ Mickey laughed sadly. ‘Go back to bed, Yev. School tomorrow.’

‘Can you come tuck me in?’

‘Yeah, of course. Sure you want me to keep Spike?’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey put the dinosaur on his pillow. ‘C’mere,’ he said, standing and swinging Yev into his arms to carry him back down the hall and into his own bedroom. He put Yev on his bed, and allowed him to get comfy before he tucked the sheets in. ‘Night, Yev.’

‘Night, Daddy,’ Yev said, nestling further into his bed. ‘I hope you don’t get any more bad dreams.’

‘Me too, bud,’ Mickey muttered.

He left Yev’s room, partially shutting the door behind himself, before he wandered down to the living room and into the kitchen to get a glass of water. What he really wanted right now was a cigarette, but Mickey didn’t have the willpower to go get one from his room and then come back here to step outside onto the tiny ass balcony that was more of an oversized ledge than anything.

He downed his water, and stood by the window, watching the odd car or late night bus go down the street, as he waited for his body to stop shaking and his breathing to turn even. Mickey hated how his brain did that – bring up stupid fucking nightmares and images of Terry. Even now, knowing that he would never find him and Yev, the mere thought of it scared the shit out of him.

It took a good twenty minutes for Mickey to calm down, and by the time he climbed back into bed, with Spike the stegosaurus sitting on the second pillow beside Mickey’s head, his alarm clock read an unblinking _3:09_.

Mickey turned away from the clock, drew his covers and up and around his shoulders, and hoped for sleep to come quickly.

 

* * *

 

Mickey had fuck all sleep, because he was way too wound up after his nightmare of Terry to tune out everything and go back to being blissfully unconscious. He fumbled his way through making breakfast and lunch for Yev, and decided that he needed to get coffee on his way to the high school. Fuck everything.

‘Daddy…’ Yev said slowly, as Mickey dozed off in the process of cutting the crusts off Yev’s sandwich.

‘What?’ Mickey asked, looking up and around. ‘You need somethin’, bud?’

‘You need sleep.’

‘Nah, just need coffee.’

Yev rolled his eyes and went over to put his bowl on the bench next to the sink. ‘Time to feed Mike!’

‘Feed him when you get home from school,’ Mickey said, putting Yev’s lunchbox in his school bag and zipping it up. ‘Time to go.’

‘But I didn’t feed Mike yesterday!’

‘Then give him extra later, okay?’ Mickey held out Yev’s school bag, and hiked his own bag up onto his shoulder. ‘Come on! Go time, kid.’

Yev huffed and turned away from the fish tank to get his bag. ‘Fine.’

‘Did you put your pencils back in your bag?’

‘ _Yes_.’

‘Good. Let’s go,’ Mickey said, holding open the front door and waiting for Yev to follow him.

Yev narrowed his eyes and left the apartment, waiting for Mickey to lock their door. He kept up the angry looks at his father as they rode the elevator down and got into the car.

‘Okay, seriously, the fuck is up with you?’ Mickey asked, looking at Yev in the rear view mirror.

Yev turned away and glared out the window. ‘Mike will be hungry.’

‘Mike is a fucking fish, Yev. He can go a week with no food,’ Mickey started up the car and left the carpark, making the short drive to Yev’s school. ‘Remember that Chelsea is taking you home today, okay?’

‘Mhmm.’

‘Yev, come on,’ Mickey said in a strained voice. ‘It’s not my fault you forgot to feed Mike yesterday. It’s on your chore list.’

‘What do I get?’

‘Huh?’

‘If I stop being grumpy,’ Yev turned to look at his father through the mirror. ‘What do I get?’

Mickey raised his eyebrows and turned around as they reached a stoplight. ‘Really? You’re trying to shake me down, right now?’

Yev crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, saying nothing.

‘For the love of God,’ Mickey muttered. ‘You get… fuck. What do you want?’

‘I want a new book about dinosaurs.’

‘Fine. Done. Stop being a grumpy little shit.’

Yev smiled at his father, and was nothing but sunshine and happiness. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

_Fucker._ Yev knew exactly how well Mickey dealt with his particular brand of tantrums – aka, Mickey didn’t deal with them. Yev was a sneaky shit, and he knew that Mickey hated the silent treatment, and usually, bought his son back to talkativeness. ‘Uh huh,’ Mickey shook his head. Kid was definitely a Milkovich at heart, even if he didn’t know it.

 

* * *

 

Ian hoped he wasn’t wasting his time as he went into the coffee shop that morning. It would be just like him to get his stupid hopes up and think Alex would be there.

But sure enough, waiting at the side of the counter was the man himself.

‘Alex!’ Ian called, smiling as he looked over.

Alex nodded in greeting and took the coffee a barista passed him. ‘Hey,’ he yawned, coming to stand next to Ian in the line. ‘How’re you?’

‘Good good. You?’

‘Fuckin’ tired. Couldn’t sleep last night.’

‘Oh… That sucks.’

‘Mm. Don’t know what the fuck I ordered,’ he said, holding up his paper cup. ‘I just asked for whatever has the highest caffeine content.’

‘Seems like a good plan,’ Ian nodded, stepping up to the counter and ordering his drink. ‘Oh, did you want one of those cookies?’

‘Nah,’ Alex pulled a paper bag from his pocket. ‘Got one already. Figured I needed coffee, so I might as well get my own apricot thing at the same time.’

‘Oh. Okay, cool.’ Ian finished off his order and paid, standing next to the counter while he waited. ‘So… any particular reason you couldn’t sleep? Just one of those nights?’

‘Recurring nightmare,’ Alex said simply, sipping his drink and making a face immediately after. ‘Fuck, you can really taste the fair trade in this shit.’

Ian laughed and almost missed the barista passing him his drink. ‘You gonna be at school the whole day, today?’

Alex shrugged as they walked out onto the street. ‘Floating in and out,’ he said. ‘Got a couple other places to go.’

‘Oh.’

‘I’ll be around, don’t worry,’ Alex said, winking as he walked down the street in the opposite direction to Ian. ‘See ya.’

‘Yeah, bye,’ Ian waved, heading off to his own car.

Ian knew it was totally none of his business, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if Alex’s moving to Seattle and his nightmares were somehow related.

Obviously there was a definite chance that Ian was making something out of nothing, but he just got the feeling that Alex was hiding something. Ian didn’t like when people hid stuff. They had every right to, and Ian wasn’t going to pry, but it had a tendency to piss him right the fuck off.

 

* * *

 

This was Ian’s first venture into the school’s staffroom. He had decided he wanted coffee (again – it seemed like he was seriously craving it today) so he pulled up his PDF of the school grounds and navigated his way to the staffroom. Turned out that locating the room was easier than locating the fucking coffee in it.

‘Hi!’ a petite, caramel skinned woman said, getting right in Ian’s way. ‘You’re the new guy, right? English department?’

‘Uh…’ Ian shook the woman’s hand, having no idea who the fuck she was. ‘Yeah, that’s me. I’m sorry, you are..?’

‘Oh! So sorry. Max Angelo. History department,’ she smiled. ‘Ian Gallagher, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘Sorry, but where is the coffee?’

Max laughed. ‘Hiding,’ she said, leading him over to a little alcove in the back corner of the staff kitchen. ‘Oh, hey, Alex.’

‘Alex?’ Ian asked, peering over Max’s hair to spot Alex at the coffee machine. ‘Hi.’

‘Man,’ Alex laughed, stirring some sugar into his mug. ‘We gotta stop meeting like this.’

‘Have you two met already?’ Max asked suspiciously.

‘Yeah, we’re always getting coffee from that little shop in the not-quite-alley?’ Alex said.

‘Ah,’ Max nodded. ‘They have really good croissants.’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘You and your fuckin’ pastries.’

Max grinned and grabbed a muffin from the basket on the bench. ‘I’ll see you later. Nice to meet you, Ian.’

‘You too, Max. Thanks for the directions.’

‘Happy to help!’ she said, waving her muffin at him.

‘She seems nice,’ Ian commented, turning his attention to the pot of coffee in front of Alex.

‘She is,’ Alex smiled. ‘She seems to genuinely like her job as well, so that’s a refreshing change.’

‘From?’

‘From all the geriatric assholes who’ve been in this job since dinosaurs were roaming the fuckin’ earth,’ Alex said lightly. ‘They all hate the kids with their new technologies and their _wheels_ and _electricity_.’

Ian grinned and poured some coffee into a clean-ish looking mug. ‘Some people just can’t seem to move forwards, I suppose.’

‘Yeah, well. They shouldn’t take it out on the kids,’ Alex said, watching as Ian made his coffee. ‘And, uh, you should use your own mug.’

‘Why?’

‘Because these ones get used for everything – plant pots, ashtrays, spittoons…’

‘Ew,’ Ian grimaced and looked into his drink, like he expected a stray cigarette butt to float to the surface. ‘Honestly, I’m desperate enough that I’m still gonna drink it.’

‘Brave man,’ Alex said, leaning back against the bench. ‘Seriously, though. We gotta stop meeting accidentally over coffee. We should just… plan it.’

‘Like… a coffee date?’ Ian asked.

Alex shrugged. ‘Date, coffee date, just coffee… Up to you.’

_No fucking way._ ‘Um, yeah,’ Ian said, trying to keep himself calm. ‘Sure.’

‘Good. That coffee shop? Where we keep _finding_ each other?’

‘Mhmm?’

‘They do a good breakfast menu on weekends.’

‘Okay, cool. Saturday?’

‘Nine too early?’

‘Nope.’

‘Great,’ Alex smiled.

‘Great,’ Ian repeated, swirling his coffee around his mug. ‘Is this, like… a date? Or a friend thing?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Like I said, up to you.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Well, I vote date?’

‘Date it is. Better not stand me up,’ Alex said, pushing off the bench and heading from the staffroom.

Ian took another long gulp of his coffee, before he emptied the rest down the sink and shoved his mug into the dishwasher. He followed Alex out of the room, and caught up to him as he walked into the usually empty hallway. ‘What’s going on down there?’ Ian asked, pointing to a group of students at the other end of the hall.

‘Fuck,’ Alex muttered. ‘Hold my coffee,’ he said, thrusting his mug at Ian and running off the second that Ian took it.

Ian walked swiftly off after him, being careful not to spill Alex’s drink (he had a feeling it wouldn’t end well for him if he got in between Alex and his coffee).

He arrived at a circle of students, three people deep, all yelling and chanting, ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’

Ian frowned and held the mug above his head as he pushed through with the intention to break up whatever was happening. He found that he really didn’t need to, because Alex had (obviously) gotten there before him, and was in the process of hauling two boys apart. He was dodging punches and _taking_ punches like a pro, and Ian was kind of impressed with the pain tolerance Alex seemed to have.

One of them, a tall and heavy looking dude who was throwing most of the hits, Alex grabbed by the shoulder, then pushed through the crowd and up against the wall, like it was no matter. He pressed his forearm across the kid’s sternum, just below his throat. ‘The fuck are you doin’, Vin? You wanna get sent back to juvie?’

‘He was disrespecting me!’ the kid, Vin, yelled, as he tried to break free from Alex. He was at least Ian’s height, and had at least twenty pounds on Alex, but apparently, Alex was stronger than he looked.

‘I don’t give a shit if he pissed down your fucking throat!’ Alex roared. ‘Get yourself together!’

‘Yeah, Vincent,’ the other kid sneered. ‘Get yourself together.’

Alex set his jaw and gave Vin a look, which had him backing down immediately. He moved his arm down, making sure Vin wouldn’t charge, before Alex turned on his heel and grabbed the other kid by the collar, shoving him into the wall opposite Vin. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Jack. Jack Brendon,’ the kid said, like it was supposed to mean something. ‘Do you know who I am?’

‘Do you know who –’ Alex stopped and let out a deep breath. ‘I don’t give a shit who you are. I’m in charge. Vin is one of my people, and he could seriously fuck your skinny ass up, if I let him. Sadly, my job is to keep him in line, so that won’t be happening today.’

‘Who the fuck are you?’ Jack said, looking Alex up and down in disgust. ‘Get your hands off me.’

Alex pushed him harder into the wall and barred him across the chest in the same way he had done to Vin. ‘I want you to apologise.’

Jack narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m not apologising to _that_ inbreed.’

Alex sighed deeply. ‘Look, kid. I don’t have the time or patience for your shit today.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Apologise or don’t, I don’t give a fuck. My job is to make sure that _he_ doesn’t get sent back to juvie,’ Alex said, jerking his head towards Vin. ‘So if you antagonise him again, and he gets sent back, you will answer to me.’

Jack narrowed his eyes. ‘Let me down.’

‘Vin, you cool?’ Alex asked.

‘Yeah, I’m cool,’ Vin replied.

‘Okay. Go down to my office, and I’ll deal with you after lunch.’

‘A’ight, Lysenko.’

Alex waited for Vin’s footsteps to fade, before he let Jack down. ‘I’m serious. Don’t fuck with my people.’

‘I don’t know who they are, so I can’t promise anything,’ Jack shrugged.

Alex took his coffee from Ian and sipped it, maintaining eye contact with Jack the whole time. ‘You’re right, you probably don’t. Not until you wake up in a hospital bed,’ Alex said. He turned around and faced the still assembled peoples. ‘What the fuck are you waiting for? Fuck off.’

‘You can’t use that kind of language,’ Jack said, as he sauntered off. ‘Staff aren’t supposed to swear!’

‘Good thing I’m not staff,’ Alex said, adding under his breath, ‘Asshole.’

Ian laughed lightly. ‘You break up fights often?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Occasionally. Depends if one of my kids is involved.’

‘Fair enough,’ Ian nodded.

‘Look, I, uh. I’d love to stay and talk, but I gotta go down and have a chat with Vin,’ Alex said, heading off in the direction of the stairwell.

‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ Ian said, waving him off. ‘Do your thing.’

Alex smiled. ‘See you round.’

Ian nodded. ‘See ya.’

 

* * *

 

**_Sent: Fiona  
_ ** _FI HE’S A FUCKIN BADASS IS2G_

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _huh? who?_

**_Sent: Fiona  
_ ** _ALEX. NO FEAR, SLAMMING PEOPLE INTO WALLS KINDA BADASS._

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _oh god ian please don’t get involved with violent people_

**_Sent: Fiona  
_ ** _HE’S NOT VIOLENT HE’S BADASS AND IT’S REALLY HOT_

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _ian don’t involve urself in violence. i don’t care how hot it is._

**_Sent: Fiona  
_ ** _oh well then u won’t be happy to hear that we’re going for breakfast on sat. morning??? :)_

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _WHAT???? WHO ASKED??? not as like a morning after thing right like this is a date????_

**_Sent: Fiona  
_ ** _date :) he said he was good with it being “a friend date or coffee date or date date” so i said “date date?” and he’s like “yup cool” so it’s a date date omg fi_

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _aww :) that’s so nice!_

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _seriously tho my point stands. don't do violent people, ian. it won’t end well for anyone, right?_

**_Sent: Fiona  
_ ** _yeah i know. lunch just ended. gotta go x_

**_From: Fiona  
_ ** _okay. have fun on sat. if we don’t talk beforehand :)_

 

* * *

 

‘Yev, don’t use your hands to eat spaghetti,’ Mickey sighed tiredly.

Yev looked guiltily up at his father and wiped his hands on the paper towel Mickey had put beside his son’s plate in preparation for this occasion. ‘How do I eat it, then?’

‘Twirl your fork,’ Mickey said, demonstrating with his own. ‘See?’

Yev nodded slowly and twirled his own spaghetti around his fork. ‘Like that?’

‘Exactly like that.’

Yev made a happy noise and shoved the fork in his mouth, getting sauce all over his face in the process. ‘I like that.’

‘Yeah, thought you might,’ Mickey smiled.

‘Did you make any friends today?’ Yev asked, carefully winding pasta around his fork.

Did Ian count as a friend yet? They were going on a date, right? Oh shit, that meant Ian was gay. Mickey had hoped, of course, but Ian had just outed himself, and Mickey in the process. He had been looking for a friend, and accidentally maybe acquired a fuckbuddy? Or a boyfriend? Well, fuck, Mickey wasn’t complaining. He thought he would just throw the whole _date_ thing out there and see if Ian took the bait. Which he had. ‘Yeah, I suppose. We’re going for breakfast.’

‘Can I come?’ Yev asked.

‘Oh…’ Mickey had literally forgotten about his child in that moment. ‘Uh. I’ll ask him.’

‘It’s a boy?’

‘Yeah, his name’s Ian.’

Yev frowned at his spaghetti. ‘Oh.’

‘What?’ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Thought you said I needed friends?’

‘I was hoping it was a girl and I could get a new mama,’ Yev said quietly.

‘Oh, buddy,’ Mickey said quietly, patting his son’s shoulder. ‘You won’t get another mama.’

‘Why not?’

Mickey bit his lip and steeled himself. He still had issues admitting he was gay, though definitely not as many as he used to, but this was Yev. Kid would be fine with it, because that’s how a lot of kids were – absolutely fucking fine with whoever someone decided to love. ‘Because I don’t like girls. Girls are okay for friends, but I don’t want to marry one.’

‘Why not?’ Yev repeated.

Mickey forgot how many questions kids asked when they were little. He sighed and thought of how he could explain it. ‘Okay. Sometimes boys love girls, right?’

‘Like you and mama?’

‘Not really. We were… friends.’

‘Oh.’

Mickey took that as a sign to continue. ‘Then sometimes boys love boys, and girls love girls. Some people love both, or neither, or…’ Mickey decided to leave it at the simplest form for now. Didn’t want to confuse Yev with all the terms and shit. ‘Yeah.’

‘So…’ Yev frowned again and looked up to Mickey. ‘You’re a boy and you don’t love girls?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘I love boys.’

‘Oh,’ Yev’s face broke into a smile. ‘So one day I might have two daddies?’

Mickey smiled. ‘Yeah. One day you might have two daddies.’

‘But no mamas?’

‘No mamas.’

‘But I still have _my_ mama?’ Yev asked.

‘Yeah. You have your mama, and you might have two daddies,’ Mickey confirmed.

‘Oh. Okay!’ Yev said happily. ‘I hope he’s like you.’

‘Why?’

‘You’re cool.’

Mickey laughed. ‘Thanks, kid.’

Yev was quiet again as he concentrated on his pasta, and after a few more bites, he said, ‘Your friend...’

‘Ian?’

‘Yep. Ian. Is he going to be my new daddy?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Dunno. Probably not.’

‘Oh.’

‘If I let you come for breakfast on Saturday, you can’t tell him we talked about this, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Yev said. ‘I pinky promise.’

Mickey smiled and let Yev twist their littlest fingers together. ‘Pinky promise.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sidenote: i used to have a recurring nightmare about witches wanting to feed me to their giant, sedentary, ground dwelling turtles. it's scarier than it sounds. (or maybe i was just more freaked out by the ridiculous amount of rubbish and recyclable materials that surrounded the turtles...)


	4. No Takesies Backsies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘So archaic, I’m practically the Kritios Boy,’ Alex said smoothly.  
> ‘Kritios Boy?’ Ian asked. ‘Nah, man. I’m getting like… a Laocoön vibe from you.’  
> ‘Laocoön? He got attacked by fuckin’ serpents, asshole.’

Mickey had never really wanted kids. Growing up as he had, he didn’t want to bring tiny humans into that kind of environment. He knew it was expected of him – being who he was, Mickey knew he would need to have at least one kid – preferably a boy, as well. And not just because Mickey knew that Terry had wandering eyes.

When Svetlana had told Mickey she was pregnant, he was kind of relieved, but also disgusted with himself that he had actually managed to create a life to bring into the mess that was the Milkovich family. Under the Milkovich name, Mickey’s kid would be branded the same way he had. Dangerous. A troublemaker. Someone to be avoided. The lifestyle would make Mickey’s kid into that, as well.

Which was why he had to get them out.

Point being, Mickey never wanted to be a father. The moment Yevgeny popped out of Svetlana and was handed to Mickey, that all changed. He wanted to protect this tiny, squidgy pink thing. He wanted it to be safe and happy and healthy.

When Svetlana was no longer around, Mickey had needed to up his skills and figure shit out. How the fuck to take care of a kid – feeding it, keeping it clean, keeping it _alive_ – was top of his list. He wished he had paid more attention to how Svetlana had done that shit.

It seemed like Mickey had done a pretty good job, raising Yev by himself since the kid was two. He hadn’t lost an arm, or developed rickets or any of that crap, so Mickey was fucking proud of himself. Yev was a smart fucker to boot, so Mickey wasn’t just proud of himself, he was proud of _Yev_ for growing into such a good kid. (Of course, he might go through a rebellious stage, but for the moment, Mickey would just enjoy the dinosaur phase.)

Yev had rarely gotten sick, so Mickey was still kind of inexperienced in that department. Might’ve been why he started freaking out and going into Mother Hen mode the second that Yev developed a sniffle, somewhere between going to bed on Wednesday night and waking up on Thursday morning.

He shuffled into the kitchen, fully dressed for school, and sat at the small table, waiting for Mickey to bring him his appropriately sized bowl of Lucky Charms.

‘You okay there?’ Mickey asked, watching Yev blink blearily at his cereal.

‘’M good,’ Yev replied, picking out all the boring cereal bits to leave his marshmellows for last.

‘Sure?’

‘Yep.’

‘Not getting sick, are you?’ Mickey frowned, resting the back of his hand against Yev’s forehead. _Jesus Christ._ ‘Hmm. You’re a bit hot. How are you feeling?’

‘’M fine!’ Yev protested, batting at Mickey with his spoon. ‘Gotta go to school.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘You don’t wanna stay home today?’

‘Nope.’

Mickey shook his head. _Unbelievable._ ‘Fine. You can go today, but if you’re not better tomorrow, you’re staying home, okay?’

Yev nodded sullenly and gave up his usual thing of selecting his cereal, instead just eating whatever landed on his spoon.

‘You know,’ Mickey started, spreading Nutella on a slice of bread. ‘Most kids would love to stay home, instead of going to school.’

Yev narrowed his eyes at his father. ‘I like school.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey put peanut butter on another slice of bread and put them together. ‘Do you think school will like _you_ if you get everyone else sick?’

‘Yes.’

‘What? No, they won’t.’

‘The other kids will,’ Yev said simply. ‘They don’t like school because they’re stupid.’

‘Yev, that’s not how it works,’ Mickey replied, wrapping the sandwich and putting it in Yev’s lunchbox. ‘And if they’re stupid, they should be at school. Learning things.’

‘So they can stop being stupid?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yup. Now, hurry up with your breakfast, okay? Still gotta feed Mike before we leave.’

‘Can you feed him?’ Yev asked, finishing off the last few pieces of his cereal.

‘No. Your fish, you feed him,’ Mickey shrugged, zipping closed Yev’s bag.

‘ _Dad_ ,’ Yev whined.

‘No, hurry up. We’re leaving as soon as I find my fucking phone.’

‘Swear jar!’ Yev said, handing Mickey his bowl and going off to the bathroom to retrieve the little stool he stood on to reach the fish tank.

‘I’m the only person who swears!’ Mickey called down the hall. ‘It’s pointless to have a swear jar!’

‘No, it’s not!’

 

* * *

 

‘Ian,’ Mickey said, walking swiftly down the hall to where he could see the redhead opening the door to his classroom. Still eating lunch at his desk, then.

‘Oh, hey, Alex,’ Ian smiled. ‘What’s up?’

Mickey hated the sound of his fake name coming out of Ian’s mouth. Jesus Christ. He’d never hear Ian say his name, would he? ‘I just needed to ask you something.’

‘Okay, you wanna come in?’ he asked, holding the door for Mickey.

‘Yeah, thanks,’ Mickey smiled and slid into the classroom, going over to sit on the desk opposite Ian’s. ‘So, I forgot I have a kid, right, and I don’t want to ask my neighbour to look after him on a Saturday morning…’

‘So you want to know if I’m okay with you bringing him to our date?’ Ian clarified. ‘Absolutely fine. I love kids.’

‘You got younger siblings?’

‘Yeah, three, then two older. My youngest brother just turned twelve,’ Ian smiled. ‘I kinda miss being around them all. It’s very… quiet. You?’

Mickey sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. _He_ had siblings, but Alex Lysenko didn’t. Mickey settled for shaking his head, because he _was_ Alex Lysenko. Only child. ‘Nope. Just me.’

‘Oh. That’s sad. It’s nice having siblings. They give good advice,’ Ian laughed.

‘I’ve heard they can also be really fucking annoying,’ Mickey said. ‘But uh, yeah. If you’re good with Yev coming, then that’s uh… Yeah. Pretty much all I wanted to ask. Still on for nine?’

‘Yeah, not a problem.’

‘Okay, great. I’ll –’ Mickey was interrupted by his phone blasting some stupid, generic ringtone. He shot Ian an apologetic look before he answered it. ‘Yeah?’

_‘Hi, Mr Lysenko?’_ a pleasant, female voice said.

‘Yeah, that’s me.’

_‘I’m from your son… Yevg…’_

‘You’re from Yev’s school.’

_‘Yes, sorry. I’m from your son’s school,’_ the woman continued, moving smoothly on from her almost-mangling of Yev’s name. (Wasn’t her fault – Svetlana thought it would be a great idea to name him after her father.) _‘He’s fallen ill, and we need you to come pick him up as soon as you’re able.’_

Mickey sighed and rubbed his eyes. ‘Yeah, a’ight. I’ll be there soon.’

_‘Thank you, Mr Lysenko.’_

‘Mhmm.’ Mickey hung up his phone and rolled his eyes. ‘Told the kid he should stay home.’

‘Is he okay?’ Ian asked.

‘He’s got like… a cold, or some shit. Insisted on going to school, because apparently my kid is fuckin’ weird and actually wants to go.’

‘That must be a change from the kids you deal with, I suppose?’

‘It’s a bit different,’ Mickey said, preparing himself to launch into a speech about disadvantageous circumstances, before he remembered he had to go get Yev. ‘Shit, I should go. Um. See you Saturday, yeah?’ Mickey repeated, sliding off the desk and backing up to the door.

‘Saturday, nine a.m., that little café I keep finding you in,’ Ian smiled. ‘I’ll be there.’

Mickey grinned and pushed the door open, stepping into the hallway. ‘See ya, Gallagher!’

 

* * *

 

Mickey yawned as he entered the office for Yev’s school. As he walked up to the desk, he finished off his text to the high school, cancelling his visits with the last few kids there, and cleared his throat to get the attention of the woman sitting behind it.

‘Yes?’ she said, looking up over the rim over her glasses.

‘I’m Alex Lysenko? I’m here to pick up Yev,’ Mickey said, drumming his fingers against his thighs impatiently. Mother Hen mode was going into overdrive, and he needed to check that his baby chick was okay.

‘Ah, of course,’ the woman smiled. ‘This way,’ she said, standing and leading Mickey through a side door, down a short hall, and into what must be the nurse’s office.

Yev was lying, curled up, on the bed. He must’ve just been resting his eyes, because they slid open when he heard the clacking of the woman’s heels on the linoleum floor. ‘Daddy,’ Yev whined.

Mickey sighed and walked in, crouching beside the bed in front of his son. ‘I told you to stay home, didn’t I?’

‘We were talking about dinosaurs today!’ Yev said, scooching closer to the edge of the bed, drawn to Mickey like a tiny, heat seeking missile. ‘I had to come to school.’

‘Fair enough,’ Mickey smiled, patting Yev’s hair. ‘Home time, yeah?’

‘But dinosaurs!’

‘We can watch dinosaur movies at home, okay?’

Yev relented and nodded. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey repeated. ‘You wanna stand up?’

‘No,’ Yev grumped, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

Mickey rolled his eyes and decided that would do for now. ‘A’ight, where’s your bag?’

‘There,’ Yev said, pointing to the end of the bed.

Mickey got up and retrieved the bag, swinging it onto his shoulder, before he scooped Yev into his arms and rested his weight on his hip. ‘Do I need to sign anything or whatever?’ Mickey asked, pausing at the doorway to speak with the office lady.

‘No, just remember to call him in sick tomorrow,’ she smiled.

‘A’ight. Thanks.’

‘No problem,’ she said, standing aside to let Mickey out with Yev.

As Mickey walked to his car, Yev grumbled irritably and buried his face in Mickey’s shoulder. All he caught from what Yev said was _“dinosaurs”,_ which was then followed by a lot of angry mutterings. He got Yev into the backseat and made sure he was buckled in, before driving them home.

‘You’re staying home tomorrow, too, okay?’ Mickey said, once they were inside the apartment.

Yev nodded sadly. ‘Okay.’

‘You wanna go put on your PJs or something?’

‘Okay. Do I get a pillow fort?’

‘Mm… How about a blanket nest?’ Mickey suggested, toeing off his boots beside the door.

‘A nest?’ Yev asked, kicking his feet against Mickey’s knee to let his father know he wanted to be put down. ‘Like a dinosaur nest?’

‘Uh... sure.’

‘Okay,’ Yev said, going off to his bedroom.

In the meantime, Mickey gathered a mass of pillows and blankets, pulled the couch out into a bed, and built the pillows into an oval shape, covering and filling it with the blankets to make it comfier. He also went and turned on the kettle to fill up a hot water bottle for Yev.

The kid returned a few minutes later, clutching Spike and looking absolutely disgusted with the recent turn of events. He seemed to perk up a little when he spotted the nest Mickey had made him, and immediately climbed in, snuggling into the blankets.

‘How are you feeling?’ Mickey asked, as Yev buried himself a little bit more.

Yev didn’t say anything, just gave his father a look that read _“How do you think I’m feeling?”_

‘Have you had lunch?’ When Yev shook his head, Mickey sighed. ‘What do you want? Soup or somethin’?’

‘Soup,’ Yev chirped.

‘A’ight,’ Mickey said, going into the kitchen and searching through the cupboards for any canned stuff. Which they didn’t have. He frowned and opened up the fridge, which was stocked with vegetables he had bought last week, at the insistence of Yev. Mickey rolled his eyes and went back to the living room to sit on the couch beside his nesting child. ‘I’m gonna have to make it from scratch, so do you want me to put a movie on for you?’

Yev poked his head through the blankets and smiled at him. ‘Can I watch the one with the blue people?’

‘What, _Avatar_?’

‘Yep.’

‘No.’

‘But _Dad_ ,’ Yev whined. ‘It’s got dinosaurs!’

‘They’re not dinosaurs,’ Mickey said tiredly, because God knows this was not the first time they had had this conversation. ‘What about… _Atlantis_?’

‘Which one is that?’

‘It’s the one with the stone fish things that fly, the people who live underwater, and that really cool mechanic girl who reminds me of…’ _Mandy._

‘Of who?’

‘No one. Don’t worry.’ _You wouldn’t remember her._

Yev narrowed his eyes suspiciously at his father. ‘Okay. I’ll watch it.’

Mickey nodded and went off to set up the TV and DVD. ‘You know how to work it?’ he asked, handing Yev the remote controls.

‘Yep.’

‘Good, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.’

‘Okay. Thank you, Daddy.’

Mickey nodded and got started on prepping some vegetables and various other crap for in the soup, because this was his life now. He might not have wanted kids, he might’ve hated himself for bringing Yev into the world, but now the kid was here – Mickey couldn’t imagine his life without him.

(Well, maybe he could. But that was not a life he wanted to have.)

 

* * *

 

Friday lunch, Ian was half-heartedly wondering why he hadn’t seen Alex yet. Had he said something yesterday that made him lose the only friend he had managed to find since moving here? Okay, he hadn’t really been in Seattle that long, so that might’ve be a little dramatic to say.

Ian went through their conversation in his head, and tried to remember if he had said anything strange or overbearing. Well. He figured that if Alex hadn’t run for the hills after Ian came down with an abrupt case of _dicks on the brain_ , then he probably hadn’t really been at fault.

Oh. Then Ian remembered that Alex had received a call and left quite quickly after. _Ah._ His son was sick. And if his ex wasn’t around to take care of their kid, then Alex must’ve had to stay home as well.

Ian felt a weird sense of relief at that, because it meant that he wasn’t at fault. Alex just had a sick and potentially infectious child to look after.

He wished he had got Alex’s number so he could text him and see how everything was going.

 

* * *

 

Yev had been complaining the whole morning and up through lunch about how unfair it was that he had to stay home and miss out on the stuff they were learning about dinosaurs.

It took a very exasperated reminder from Mickey about how he would already know everything anyway, and a bribe of another new book and getting to watch _Avatar_ for Yev to stop being moody about missing school, and actually just be quiet and rest.

Once Mickey had thrown the DVD in, Yev settled back into his nest of pillows and blankets with Spike and watched with fascination, clapping his tiny hands and squealing in joy when the banshees appeared onscreen.

‘Daddy?’ Yev said.

‘Mm?’ Mickey asked, barely conscious and falling asleep beside Yev on the couch. ‘’Sup?’

‘Do you think I could have one of those? I promise to take care of it.’

Mickey huffed in amusement. ‘They don’t exist.’

‘Yes, they do! Look!’ Yev said, whacking Mickey’s head and pointing to the screen. ‘See?’

_Jesus_. Kid could throw a punch. Mickey rubbed the side of his head and scowled up at his son. ‘Whatever, but they’re on Pandora, right?’

‘So?’

‘Are we on Pandora?’

‘No, we’re on… Oh,’ Yev frowned.

‘Exactly,’ Mickey said, sliding his eyes shut again. ‘They live on Pandora and breathe Pandora air. We’re not on Pandora and it would probably die.’

‘Okay,’ Yev said softly. ‘Can I get another fish, then?’

 

* * *

 

Mickey had wanted to sleep in. He really, _really_ had. Before Yev came along, and if he had nothing lined up for the morning, Mickey would sleep in until at least eleven a.m., and now? Now he would be happy with sleeping in until _eight_.

That was, however, pretty fucking impossible. Especially as the single parent of a six year old, and _especially_ if said six year old was sick. Mickey was expecting the worst from Yev’s illness to have appeared, and was pleasantly surprised when he found that Yev was getting better. Must’ve just been one of those weirdass 48-hour colds.

Did those even exist? Apparently.

So, it was around seven thirty, and Yev was starfished on Mickey’s bed, doing snow angel movements and whining about being hungry. Mickey just wanted to fucking sleep a bit longer, so he wormed his way further down into his bed, slammed a pillow over his head, and hoped Yev would get the picture and fucking leave to go watch cartoons or something.

‘Yev, fuck off,’ Mickey growled, shaking off his son as he crawled onto Mickey.

‘Daddy,’ Yev huffed. ‘You needa come get my cereal!’

‘No, eat a piece of fruit.’

‘ _Daaad_.’

‘A’ight, I can either get up and get your cereal, or you can eat an apple and have pancakes for breakfast when we go see Ian, okay?’

Yev deliberated on that for a few moments. ‘When?’

‘Nine.’

‘What time is it now?’

‘Not nine.’

Mickey could practically hear Yev roll his eyes. ‘Okay,’ he said, sliding off the bed and leaving Mickey’s room.

_Thank God._ Mickey relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the perfect warmth of his bed for a while longer, drifting in and out of consciousness, until it occurred to him that he should probably check the time and maybe get out of bed.

Mickey shoved his hand out and felt blindly around for his phone, clamping his hand around it when his knuckle hit the side of the case. He turned the screen on and blinked a few times at the digits. _8:43_.

‘Fuck!’ Mickey cried, leaping out of bed. ‘Jesus. Yev!’

‘Yep?’ Yev replied, getting to the end of the hall, just in time to catch his father run across and into the bathroom.

‘Are you dressed?’ Mickey asked loudly through the door, taking the fastest piss he had ever done.

‘Yep.’

‘Shoes?’ Mickey flushed the toilet and speed-washed his hands.

‘Yep.’

‘Okay, go get your bag and put a book in it, or my iPad or something,’ Mickey combed his hair and decided he would forgo the gel today – seriously, who gave a fuck right now. ‘Don’t forget the headphones!’

‘Where are they?’

‘Fuck, I don’t know,’ Mickey said, walking back to his room and scanning every surface for Yev’s volume limited headphones. ‘They’re here!’

Yev trotted, fully dressed, into Mickey’s room and took them from his hand. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

‘Uh huh. Feed Mike while I get dressed, then we gotta go.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I now have twelve minutes to get to a coffee shop fifteen minutes away,’ Mickey explained, pulling on the first pair of jeans he saw, and yanking a random shirt from inside his drawers. Pale cream and button down? That shouldn’t be in there. Mickey ignored his lack of organisational skills and put the shirt on anyway, then moved onto finding his other shoe.

By the time Mickey deemed himself appropriately dressed and ready, Yev was sitting on the couch with his bag at his feet. ‘Ready to go?’ Mickey asked, rolling up his sleeve to match the other one.

‘Yep,’ Yev nodded, slipping off the couch and putting on his bag. ‘I still get pancakes, right?’

‘Yeah, you still get pancakes,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Mike’s fed?’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay, let’s go.’

‘Dad?’ Yev said, still standing next to the couch.

‘What?’ Mickey asked impatiently.

Yev held his hand up and pointed to his knuckles. ‘You forgot,’ he said quietly.

Mickey looked down to his knuckles and saw his _FUCK U-UP_ still standing out against his skin. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered, going back to the bathroom and pulling open the top drawer in the vanity to get his concealer out. They would just have to be a few more minutes late.

 

* * *

 

Ian was starting to get worried that Alex wasn’t gonna turn up. It was only 9:05 though, so it wasn’t like he was _that_ late. He went to get his phone out of his pocket to text Alex, and then remembered he didn’t have his number. Fuck. That was gonna need to change.

Ian decided to play a game of _2048_ while he waited, periodically looking up and out the window to check the street, and after a couple of minutes, saw Alex and a little kid that looked just like him walking towards the shop. Ian breathed a sigh of relief and let out an easy smile as Alex and his son joined him at the table.

‘Hey,’ Alex smiled. ‘Sorry we’re late. Slept in.’

‘It’s fine,’ Ian said. ‘You wanna sit or something?’

‘Right, yeah,’ Alex shook his head and pulled out a chair for his kid to climb onto. ‘Uh, Ian, this is my son, Yevgeny. Yev, this is my friend, Ian.’

The boy, Yevgeny, looked curiously at Ian, turned to his dad and gave him a thumbs up, then looked back to Ian. ‘Hi!’

‘Hi,’ Ian grinned. Kid was cute. His hair was dark and a tad too long to be completely functional, and his eyes were blue and clear. Ian flicked his eyes up to Alex and raised an eyebrow. _Looks just like you._

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Want me to go order breakfast?’

‘Uh, yeah, sure.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Eggs Benedict,’ Ian said. ‘Aren’t you gonna look over the menu?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Don’t need to. Drink?’

‘Coffee. Black and one sugar.’

‘Okay. Yev? What do you want to drink?’

‘Juice.’

Alex nodded. ‘I’ll be right back.’

As his father left, Yev watched Ian closely. ‘Do you like dinosaurs?’

Ian looked slightly surprised at being addressed so quickly. ‘Uh, yeah. They’re pretty cool.’

Yev grinned and dived into the bag he had brought with him, and pulled out a book. He placed it on the table in front of him and said, ‘I really like dinosaurs.’

‘What’s your favourite?’ Ian asked.

‘Stegosaurus,’ Yev said, turning open the book to a page with a well worn dog ear marking it. ‘I have one at home. His name is Spike.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yep. Daddy’s favourite is a T-rex,’ Yev shook his head in disappointment. ‘He’s wrong.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I said so,’ Yev replied simply. ‘What’s your favourite?’

‘Ankylosaurus,’ Ian said. ‘I think they’re pretty badass.’

Yev brightened. ‘I think so, too.’

Alex arrived back with a table marker and dropped himself into the third chair at the table. ‘Coffee should be here soon.’

‘Great, thanks,’ Ian smiled. ‘I hear your favourite dinosaur is the T-rex?’

Alex groaned and rested his forehead on the table. ‘You wanna tell me how I’m wrong, as well?’

‘No, no. Just… Throwing it out there with tiny T-rex arms.’

Yev giggled and kicked his feet out, hitting his father in the shin. ‘Ian’s favourite is the ankylosaurus.’

‘Well, good for Ian. You can be dinosaur snobs together,’ Alex said, picking himself up off the table and running a hand through his hair. It felt weird to have it soft under his fingers, and not hard and immovable like usual.

‘I like it,’ Ian said softly, smiling at Alex. ‘Your hair. It looks nice all… fluffy.’

‘Fluffy?’ Alex repeated in amusement. ‘Thanks.’

Ian laughed. ‘It makes you look younger.’

‘Oh, exactly what I need.’ Alex nodded to Yev. ‘Headphones in, bud.’

Yev nodded and put his book back in his bag, pulling out an iPad and headphones instead. He plugged it in and started bopping his head, as Ian spotted a movie playing on the screen.

‘So, how was your first week?’

Ian shrugged. ‘Good, honestly. I really like it. A couple of my kids were flirting with me, which was… strange.’

‘Really?’

‘Mm. And they were girls as well, so that really didn’t help the situation.’

Alex grinned. ‘You’re pretty fuckin’ gay, aren’t you?’

‘Hundred percent, through and through,’ Ian nodded. ‘But uh, I’ve been meaning to ask – and I hope you don’t mind, but –’

‘You wanna know what my deal is, right?’ Alex finished.

Ian smiled apologetically. ‘Yeah. I mean, I’m not complaining, definitely not, I’m just a little… confused? I guess?’

‘Yeah, that’s fair,’ Alex sighed. ‘Uh, well. I’m gay. And I have a kid. Pretty much all there is to it.’

Ian frowned. ‘What happened to his mom? You seem kinda upset at the mention of her.’

Alex squished his lips from one side of his face to the other a couple of times and idly organised the little packs of sugar in the middle of the table. ‘To make this easy, gonna give you the short answer.’

‘Okay, sure.’

‘I married young, she was my best friend, and now I’m technically a w-i-d-o-w-e-r.’

Ian blinked. ‘Seriously?’ When Alex was silent, Ian let out a deep breath. ‘Shit, man. That sucks. I’m so sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ Alex said hollowly. ‘Me too.’

‘And Yev?’

‘What about him?’

‘Where does he fit into all of this?’

Alex rubbed his eyes. ‘We were married. Married people have kids.’

‘Right,’ Ian said. ‘Sorry.’

‘Nah, it’s fine. It’s confusing to people who aren’t me.’

‘Did she know?’

‘Know what? That I’m gay?’ Alex scoffed. ‘She was my best friend. Of course she did.’

A member of the café staff brought over their drinks, and smiled as she said, ‘Food will be here in a couple of minutes.’

‘Okay, thanks,’ Ian nodded as she left again. ‘Sorry if I was prying or anything. I was just curious.’

‘Don’t worry. I’m gonna have to explain everything to _him_ one day.’

‘I’m sure he’ll understand,’ Ian said reassuringly, deciding to change the topic – Alex was clearly becoming uncomfortable with the current route of conversation. ‘So, you’re from New York, right?’

‘State,’ Alex nodded.

‘What’s it like?’

‘Uh… Nice, I suppose.’

‘Why’d you leave?’

‘Needed a fresh start. Why did you leave Chicago?’ Alex asked.

‘Got a job,’ Ian laughed. ‘I miss my family more than I thought I would.’

‘I think you’ve mentioned.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Stop apologising, man. It’s good you give a shit about them.

‘I’m just worried, you know?’ Ian said, as he stirred his coffee. ‘My sister’s boyfriend is shady as fuck, one of my brothers is getting involved with a bad crowd…’

‘Oh, really?’ Alex asked, sounding interested. ‘What kinda people?’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘He’s… Jesus, he’s working a corner?’

Alex raised his eyebrows. ‘Drugs or prostitution?’

‘Drugs,’ Ian replied quietly. ‘Like, heavy shit, class A kinda stuff.’

‘Fuck, man,’ Alex said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘You know who he’s workin’ for?’

‘Nope. Won’t tell us anything, except that he’s lucky to be in with those people because he’s making a shitload of money. We’ve got our suspicions, though.’

‘Who you thinkin’?’

Ian shook his head. ‘You wouldn’t know them.’

‘No, probably not.’

‘Eggs Benedict?’ a girl said behind them.

‘Oh, sorry. That’s me,’ Ian said, as he turned and moved so she could place the plate in front of him.

‘So that must mean that you have the big pancakes, and the little pancakes are for the little dude?’ the girl asked.

‘Yeah,’ Alex nodded. He leant over and snapped his fingers in front of Yev’s face to get his attention. ‘Breakfast.’

Yev grinned and paused his movie, locking the screen of the iPad and putting it aside to make room for his pancakes. ‘Thank you!’

‘You’re welcome,’ the girl smiled. She picked up the marker from the centre of the table and twirled it in her fingers. ‘If you want anything else, feel free to come up and see me,’ she winked, leaving the three of them to eat.

‘Tell me about you, though,’ Ian said, cutting a piece of the toasted ciabatta and dunking it in the hollandaise sauce. ‘I feel like we’re just focusing on my problems.’

‘Well,’ Alex flicked his eyes to Yev briefly. ‘There’s not much to tell.’

‘Come on, give me _something_ to work with here.’

Alex got started on his stack of pancakes as he thought about what to say. ‘I mean… No siblings, dead family, boring and ordinary life.’

‘Really?’

Alex shrugged. ‘Pretty much.’

‘We have a goldfish!’ Yev announced.

‘You have a goldfish?’ Ian repeated. ‘What’s it called?’

‘Mike,’ Alex said, shoving some pancake into his mouth.

‘Mike?’

‘Mike Wazowski!’ Yev nodded.

Ian’s eyebrows shot up as he looked to Alex incredulously. ‘Mike Wazowski?’

‘Let’s not go there, a’ight?’

‘If you say so,’ Ian laughed and turned his attention back to his food.

They were silent as they made their way through their food, occasionally commenting on something or the other. Ian tried a few more times to weasel any small factoids out of Alex about himself, but it seemed like he was a book glued shut, and he wasn’t about to just spill all his secrets, because – without a doubt – he had some.

Ian stopped trying once he realised that he probably had good reason for keeping quiet about himself, and that made him all the more intent on discovering everything he could about the man that was Alexei Lysenko.

Once they had finished their food, Ian and Alex talked about work and their plans for the weekend, at which point Yev interrupted and said something quickly to his father.

‘Ah,’ Alex nodded, straightening up from where he had leaned over to hear what Yev was saying. ‘It seems I gotta go. Kid needs to –’

‘Daddy!’ Yev hissed. ‘Not in front of my new friend!’

‘Me?’ Ian asked. ‘Am I your new friend?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh,’ Ian looked over to Alex and smiled triumphantly. ‘We’re friends now.’

‘Congrats,’ Alex deadpanned. ‘I’ll text you or something?’

‘That reminds me,’ Ian dug into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper and a pen. ‘You don’t have my number.’ He picked up the pen and uncapped it, trying to write on the paper. ‘Shit, my pen is dead. You got one?’

Alex raised an eyebrow in amusement. ‘You could always just put it directly into my phone.’

Ian blushed and took the proffered phone from Alex. ‘Right, yeah. Obviously.’ He entered his number and called his own phone quickly to get Alex’s.

‘Thanks,’ Alex smiled, taking his phone back. ‘Yev, you wanna go?’

Yev nodded and slid off the chair, poking Ian in the leg as he stood as well. ‘Ian,’ he whispered.

‘Yeah?’ Ian replied, crouching down to Yev’s height.

‘Bye,’ Yev grinned, giving him a quick hug. ‘I like you.’

‘Thanks. I like you, too,’ Ian smiled, standing back up. ‘We need to settle the bill or something?’

Alex shook his head. ‘I got it already.’

‘You sure?’

‘Yeah. I asked, didn’t I?’

Ian rolled his eyes as they walked to the exit. ‘That’s a really archaic notion.’

‘Yeah, well I’m an archaic guy.’

‘Really?’

‘So archaic, I’m practically the Kritios Boy,’ Alex said smoothly.

‘Kritios Boy?’ Ian asked. ‘Nah, man. I’m getting like… a Laocoön vibe from you.’

‘Laocoön? He got attacked by fuckin’ serpents, asshole.’

Ian shrugged. ‘He’s got sons though.’

Alex shook his head. ‘My kid ain’t about to die. If I’m a piece of fuckin’ Hellenistic marble, then I’m the Nike of Samothrace, thank you _very_ much.’

Ian laughed as they paused on the street next to Alex’s car. ‘Nike of Samothrace?’

‘I can identify better with Victory than I can a dude with dead sons.’

‘Fair enough.’

Alex ducked his head and smiled, looking back up at Ian through his lashes. ‘I liked this. We should do it again sometime.’

‘I’d like that,’ Ian nodded. ‘You’re pretty much the only person I’ve really talked to since I got here.’

‘Well…’ Alex paused and checked that Yev was in the car, before he said, ‘I’d like to do more than talk, y’know?’

Ian bit his lip as he pondered on whether or not that was a sign. When Alex quirked an eyebrow impatiently at him, Ian decided it was, and tentatively leaned forward. He put his hand lightly on Alex’s jaw and ran the pad of his thumb over Alex’s bottom lip, then gently kissed him. Ian hummed contently when he felt Alex’s hand rest on his waist and creep under his shirt to brush against his hip.

Too soon, Alex pulled away and removed his hand. ‘My kid’s gotta piss, man. I have to go.’

Ian chuckled. ‘Yeah, okay.’

Alex leant up for another brief kiss, before he stepped back and grinned. ‘Text me, okay?’

‘Try and stop me,’ Ian said, already mourning the loss of contact between them.

Alex just laughed and shut his door, buckling into his seat then starting up his car and driving off.

Ian sighed and watched the car go down the street, probably with an incredibly dopey smile on his face. It seemed like things were looking up now.

 

* * *

 

When Ian got home, he took one look at the work he had to do and lesson plans he had to create, and decided he didn’t want to do it. However, he had always been somewhat of a productive procrastinator, and gathered his crap to go to the gym.

He found himself slightly distracted as he did his rounds through the equipment, his mind clouded with thoughts of Alex. What was he doing? Was he thinking of Ian? Why was their goldfish called Mike Wazowski? That last one probably had a really simple explanation, but for some reason, it really fascinated Ian to think about.

It made him happy that Alex had such a good relationship with his son, and the fact that said child was adorable, well mannered and smart made it all the better. Ian half-heartedly wished that he was like that with his dad… But then again, it was Frank. So maybe not.

After nearly dropping a weight on his foot, Ian decided it was time to go home. He didn’t bother showering at the gym because he had never really had a voyeuristic streak, and went home to jack off in private. Was it too early in their relationship to start picturing Alex while he was jerking off? Probably. Ah well. Ian did it anyway, because it wasn’t like Alex was going to know.

Ian finished off in the shower and threw on a pair of sweatpants to go and investigate his cupboards to see what he could have for lunch. He had forgotten to go food shopping when Fiona had suggested it a few days ago, so pretty much all Ian had was wilted, sweating mesclun, a third of a leftover, partially shrivelled cucumber, and three packs of noodles.

That was kind of handy, actually. He could procrastinate his work a bit longer and go food shopping. First, though, he made himself a pack of the noodles, because he was too hungry to deal with anything.

 

* * *

 

The store was pretty fucking quiet for a Saturday afternoon – as Ian wandered through the aisles, he only saw about six other people. Made it pretty easy to fly through and find what he wanted, actually, so he really didn’t care. He checked through his cart to make sure he had everything, and then he realised he had forgotten several things from the fruit and vegetables section, so he reluctantly went all the way back to the start of the store, and started picking out what he had left behind.

The fact that there were so few people in the store made it seem goddamn ridiculous that Alex was hovering around a display of onions.

Ian smiled and wheeled his cart over. Not as a super creepy move or anything, but he did actually need onions. ‘Hey,’ he said. ‘Fancy seeing you here.’

Alex turned around and looked surprised to see Ian there. He had changed from what he was wearing this morning. The boots and jeans were the same, but now he had swapped the button down for a t-shirt with characters from Marvel comics on it, and a flannel shirt over the top. The matching beanie he shared with Yev was giving Ian a serious overdose of cute.

‘Shit, man,’ Alex said. ‘Don’t sneak up on a dude and his onions.’

‘Hi, Ian!’ Yev said, passing his father a bag of apples for their cart.

‘Hi, Yev,’ Ian greeted.

‘Are you doing your shopping, too?’

‘Yup. Just forgot a few things,’ Ian explained.

Alex shook his head and tutted loudly. ‘Forgot all the healthy shit, huh?’

‘Yeah, weird, isn’t it?’

‘Considering the amount of lettuce I’ve seen you eat, it’s fuckin’ unbelievable,’ Alex agreed, going over to grab a bag of carrots and continue on to where cucumbers and eggplants were lying, side by side.

‘Can you pass me a cucumber?’ Ian asked, nodding to them. ‘You’re closer.’

‘Sure, which one?’

‘Big one.’

Alex selected a cucumber and handed it over, eyeing up the fruit in his hands. ‘So… you like big cucumbers, huh?’

Ian raised his eyebrow at Alex as he put it in his cart. ‘You get more out of a big one.’

‘Smaller ones do just the same, if you know what you’re doing with it,’ Alex said, sighing wistfully. ‘But you’re right, big is better.’

‘Oh?’

Alex shrugged and rolled his cart forwards to get an eggplant. ‘You know what I mean?’

Ian nodded slowly. _Is he talking about dicks right now?_ ‘You gotta know what to do with a bigger cucumber too, though.’

‘Do _you_ know what to do with one?’

‘Yes. Yes, I do,’ Ian gestured to the cucumber in his cart. ‘I’ve got more than just that one, if you get me.’

Alex smirked. ‘Oh really?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘What is that… seven inches right there?’ Alex asked, mentally measuring the cucumber.

Ian shrugged and put a capsicum into his cart, finishing off his shopping. ‘Got nine inches at home.’

Alex ran his tongue along his bottom lip and huffed incredulously. ‘I’d like to see that one day.’

Ian grinned. ‘That could be arranged!’ he called back. As he turned the corner, he felt his phone go off with a text.

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _sooner rather than later i hope??_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _i'm game if u are ;)_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _time and date?_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _tomorrow? haha_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _done. i'll let u know when and where later ;)_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _wait seriously????_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _yup. no takesies backsies._

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _oh wow okay. cool. tomorrow! :)_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _u better not be joking about 9in btw_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _oh i never joke about 9in ;)_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _might need photographic proof later on ;)_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _give me an hour and u’ll have it ;)_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _countin down already ;)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i went like... classical art nerd right there. pretty much relived my final exam for ancient greek art in level 3 classics right then. (my teacher would be so proud.) for the record - kritios boy is late archaic era, so if ur about to bust my balls for that, then?? whatever. (sidenote: for comedy purposes, the calf bearer is better than kritios boy. he looks far too pleased about having a tiny cow on his shoulders.)


	5. Raincheck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey had a dodgy background, full of loopholes, grey areas, and questionable morals. He was a Milkovich, through and through, and was everything the name suggested. He was trouble. He was dangerous. Fuck with him and he’d fuck you right back with ten times the strength.  
> Alexei Lysenko was a nice guy with a thin, barely there nasty streak.  
> Mickey Milkovich would slit your throat while you were sleeping and not bat an eyelash.

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _pick me up at 6 tomorrow [location shown]_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _okay :) where we going?_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _it’s a surprise_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _…if i'm driving shouldn’t i know where i'm going???_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _nope_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _right_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _dw i'll give u directions ;)_

 

Ian rolled his eyes and tossed his phone to the other end of the couch. ‘He’s going to kill me, I swear.’

‘Literally or figuratively?’ Fiona asked, popping a chip into her mouth.

‘Uh... Hadn’t given it much thought. Hopefully he won’t kill me before I get the chance to stick it in,’ Ian shrugged.

‘Ian,’ Fiona grimaced. ‘Can you give me a warning before you say that stuff? I don’t need that image in my head.’

‘At least it’s only _in your head_ ,’ Ian pointed out.

‘Small mercies. So you’ve got a date tomorrow?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you had a date this morning, too?’

‘Mhmm,’ Ian smiled. ‘His son is the cutest thing.’

‘Oh really?’ Fiona asked, sucking the chip flavouring off her fingers.

‘Yeah, he’s really into dinosaurs and they have matching beanies. It’s so adorable, I’m… I just,’ Ian shook his head. ‘Alex is raising a great kid by himself.’

‘No ex floating around the scene, then?’

‘Nah,’ Ian’s smile dropped. ‘She’s… well. She’s dead.’

‘Holy shit,’ Fiona said quietly. ‘Ian, that’s some serious baggage right there, you know.’

‘Yeah, I know. We’ve all got baggage, Fi, so I don’t care. He’s worth everything that comes with him.’

‘You’ve known him for less than a week, and it sounds like you’re professing your love for him right now.’

Ian rubbed the back of his neck tiredly and half shrugged. ‘It definitely wouldn’t be the worst thing, Fi, and honest to God, I really thinkI could fall in love with him.’

‘Really?’ Fiona asked doubtfully. ‘With all the shit in his past and a _kid_? That’s a big responsibility, Ian.’

‘Hey, you’re the one who was lecturing me about not judging people about whether or not they had kids.’

‘Yeah, I know. I’m just saying – things get messy when kids are involved. They get attached, then when things go sour and everything is ripped away from them, it sucks,’ Fiona sighed. ‘But hey, if you want to fall in love with him, then by all means, do.’

‘I don’t need your permission, Fi.’

‘I know, I know. Just… tread lightly. You don’t want to hurt anyone, right?’

Ian rolled his eyes and looked down as he picked at the skin around one of his thumbs. ‘I know.’

Fiona studied him through her screen and took in all the little, fidgety movements he was making. ‘You really could, couldn’t you?’

‘What?’

‘You could fall for him.’

Ian nodded and looked up to her with a small smile on his face. ‘It would be as easy as breathing, Fi. We just… we click. Like, you can watch all those movies, and you read all those books, and you never think anything will feel as right as what those characters are feeling. You think it’s all just fiction.’

‘They’re actors, Ian.’

‘Yeah, but they make you _feel_ what they’re portraying, Fi,’ Ian said slowly, trying to get his point across. ‘They make you feel it, and you don’t think that’s something you could ever feel. You can hope, and you can say _“I wish I had a love like that”_ and you’ll never get it.’

Fiona raised an eyebrow at him and settled back into her couch cushions. ‘I’ve forgotten what your point was.’

‘My _point_ ,’ Ian sighed and ran his hands over his hair while he stalled for time and tried to gather his thoughts. ‘My point is that the kind of love you think is only a fairytale, and is just so easy… I feel like I could have that with Alex. It’s been like five days, I know hardly anything about him, but it just…’

‘It feels right,’ Fiona completed. ‘Damn, Ian. When did you turn into such a romantic?’

Ian laughed and shrugged again. ‘No idea, Fi. No fucking idea.’

 

* * *

 

‘Daddy,’ Yev whined, looking pointedly to his father, who was sitting on the closed toilet lid. ‘I don’t need you to watch me.’

‘Yev, you need to get in the fucking bath right now, thank you,’ Mickey replied, idly scrolling through the news app he had open on his phone. ‘We’re running on a schedule here.’

‘Dad, I’m not little!’

‘Yev. Bath.’

‘Fine, but I want my duck,’ he bargained, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘Yev, no,’ Mickey said, exasperated. ‘You don’t need the fucking duck.’

‘Duck or no bath,’ Yev repeated. ‘And you have to go.’

‘Oh, do I?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, this ain’t a democracy, so get in the fucking tub,’ Mickey said, raising his eyebrows and checking the time. ‘Come on, Ian’s gonna be here in just over half an hour. Make this easy for me.’

Yev adamantly shook his head. ‘I want my duck.’

‘Will you get in the bath and actually wash yourself if I get the duck?’

‘Yep.’

‘Get in the bath first, then I’ll get your duck.’

‘Promise?’ Yev asked suspiciously.

‘Promise,’ Mickey nodded, locking his phone and slipping it into his pocket. ‘Look, you get in the bath, and I’ll go get your duck. Deal?’

‘Fine,’ Yev grumped.

Mickey rolled his eyes and got up off the toilet, leaving the bathroom to go retrieve Yev’s rubber duck from where he had stashed it on the top of his wardrobe. He had put it there so he wouldn’t forget where it was, because the duck was right next to Mickey’s box of toys. He wouldn’t miss it.

Mickey got the duck down and went back to the bathroom, barging in and dropping the duck into the bath, much to his son’s delight. ‘Now, make sure you wash behind your ears and all that crap.’

‘Okay,’ Yev said happily, pushing his duck through the bubbles on the water’s surface. ‘Get out.’

‘Get out?’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Gotta do my knuckles.’

Yev rolled his eyes and slid down in the bath, so his chin was level with the bubbles. ‘Why’d you get them if you don’t like them?’

‘I’ve never said I didn’t like them,’ Mickey replied, taking his concealer out of the drawer, and starting to cover up his tattoos. ‘I just can’t show them.’

‘Why not?’

‘They’re very specific tattoos,’ Mickey sighed. ‘And we’re trying to blend in, right?’

‘Right,’ Yev nodded. ‘I lied.’

‘Huh?’

‘When I said I didn’t remember home.’

Mickey paused in his ministrations over his knuckles and went to crouch next to the bath. ‘You do remember?’

‘A bit.’

Mickey chewed on his lip and stood up again, going back to his makeup. ‘You don’t –’

‘Don’t tell anyone.’

‘Exactly. Especially not Ian.’

‘Why not?’ Yev asked quietly, starting to wash himself.

‘Because, bud. They don’t need to know that shit. Ian doesn’t.’

‘Okay,’ Yev said sadly. ‘I miss Mama.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey murmured, finishing off with the concealer and putting it back in the drawer. ‘I know. Me too. Now, finish washing yourself and get ready for Chelsea’s niece, yeah?’

‘Fine,’ Yev splashed the water and a bit went over the side of the bath. ‘Do I get to see Ian?’

‘If you’re ready when he gets here, then sure,’ Mickey nodded, leaving the bathroom. ‘Chop chop!’

Mickey heard Yev grumbling to his duck as he left the bathroom, and he double checked the concealer he had put on a few of his other tattoos across his chest and over his arms. He didn’t know how far he and Ian would go tonight, but one thing his father had drilled into him from an early age was to always be prepared for all occasions.

It had crossed his mind a few times to get the tattoos covered or removed, but that was a pretty fucking risky move within itself. He was trying to blend in, and his tattoos stood out like a sore thumb amongst people who knew what they were looking for.

Mickey’s phone went off in his pocket with a text from Ian, saying that he was a couple of minutes away, so he went and got his shoes on and checked around his apartment to make sure it was clean and tidy. Mike Wazowski had been fed and was happily chomping at the surface of the water. Mickey noted that the plant he had on top of his bookshelf in the living room was dying, with pale, wilted leaves, but there really wasn’t much he could do about that before Ian arrived.

As it was, Mickey almost forgot to check that Yev hadn’t drowned himself. ‘Yev?’ Mickey said, walking down the hall. ‘You done yet?’

‘Yep!’ Yev replied, appearing from his bedroom, hair damp and pyjamas on. ‘Is Ian here?’

‘Almo–’ Mickey was interrupted by a knock on the door. ‘Yes. Yes, he is.’

Yev smiled and clapped his hands, before he ran ahead of Mickey to go open the door. He ripped it open and looked happily up at the man in front of him. ‘Ian!’

‘Hey, Yev,’ Ian greeted. ‘Is your dad still here?’

‘Yes, he is,’ Mickey said. ‘Hey.’

‘Hey,’ Ian smiled and looked Mickey up and down. ‘You look great.’

‘Thanks,’ Mickey grinned. ‘You wanna come in? Yev’s babysitter isn’t here yet.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded, stepping inside and surveying Mickey’s apartment. ‘Nice place.’

‘It’s a shithole,’ Mickey said nonchalantly, trying to keep his insides calm and from jumping into his throat. _Jesus Christ, he’s beautiful._ The light coming in through the living room window was hitting Ian’s hair just right, and it making the orange _glow_.

‘Better than my place,’ Ian shrugged, ignorant of the way Mickey was looking at him right now.

‘Damn, Gallagher. They don’t pay you teachers enough, huh?’

‘God no.’

‘Hey, Ian! You wanna see my duck?’ Yev asked.

Ian blinked. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘My duck!’

‘Um.’

‘Just say yes,’ Mickey whispered, walking past him and into the kitchen. ‘You want a drink?’

‘I’m fine, actually, but thanks,’ Ian smiled. ‘But sure, I’ll see your duck?’

Mickey laughed quietly at Ian’s expression of absolute bewilderment as he was presented with a rubber duck by Yevgeny.

‘He’s a pirate,’ Yev explained, pointing to the eye patch and tricorne hat the duck was wearing. ‘Daddy told me his name had to be Captain Jack.’

‘Oh really?’ Ian asked, giving Mickey the side-eye as Yev took the duck back.

‘Ay, fuck off. You know those movies were fuckin’ good,’ Mickey said defensively.

‘Personally, I’m more of a Will Turner kinda guy, but I get you,’ Ian paused. ‘Actually, past relationships dictate that I’m more of a Captain Teague fan, to be honest.’

‘Who the fuck is Teague?’

Ian blushed. ‘Jack Sparrow’s father.’

Mickey raised an eyebrow at that, but only said, ‘There should be a “Captain” in there somewhere.’

‘Sorry, _Captain_.’

‘Apology accepted, _sailor_ ,’ Mickey winked.

Ian laughed as Yev came back into the room from returning his duck to… somewhere. He had probably hidden it from Mickey so he could keep his duck. (Mickey had been trying to make him bathe without the damn thing, but Yev was nothing if not attached to it.)

There was another knock at the door, and Mickey went over to open it. There was a cheerful looking teenage girl standing there. ‘You’re Nina, yeah?’ Mickey asked.

The girl nodded. ‘Yup. Chelsea’s my aunt.’

‘Okay, cool,’ Mickey stood aside to let her in. ‘Uh, so, that’s Yev. I’ve left instructions on the bench in the kitchen. He’s to be in bed by _no later_ than eight.’

‘Eight,’ Nina nodded. ‘Got it.’

‘We’ll be back probably… I don’t know. Maybe nine? Maybe later?’ Mickey looked over to Ian, who shrugged and nodded. ‘Chelsea gave me your number so if anything changes, I’ll let you know.’

‘That’s fine. I’ll see you when you get back,’ Nina smiled.

Mickey nodded and went over to crouch in front of Yev. ‘You all organised and everything?’

Yev nodded. ‘You’ll still tuck me in when you get home?’

‘’Course,’ Mickey gave him a quick hug. ‘Be good, yeah?’

Yev rolled his eyes as Mickey stood back up. ‘Duh.’

Ian bit his lip to stop from laughing. ‘Um, should we go?’

‘Right, yeah,’ Mickey grabbed his jacket from the hook next to the door. ‘My number is on the bench, so call me if you need me.’

‘We’ll be fine, right, Yev?’ Nina asked.

‘Yep!’ Yev smiled. ‘Bye, Ian!’

‘Bye, Yev,’ Ian said, saluting Yev from the doorway. ‘Alex, we gotta go.’

‘Have a good time!’ Nina said, cheerfully pushing them both out of the apartment.

Mickey stood and blinked at his door. ‘Okay then, cool. Bye.’

Ian laughed and moved his weight idly between his feet. ‘So where are we going exactly?’

 

* * *

 

‘Um, I’m just gonna put it out here right now, but this place is really fancy,’ Ian murmured, looking at Alex over the top of his menu. ‘I can’t even pronounce half the shit on here.’

‘Really?’ Alex asked. ‘It’s French.’

‘I’m sorry, do you speak French? I don’t.’

‘I don’t speak French, I speak food,’ Alex smiled. ‘What do you want?’

‘Uh… Something simple? Healthy?’ Ian replied, completely at a loss as his eyes scanned down lists of items. ‘Chicken or something.’

‘A’ight. Want me to just order something with chicken for you?’

Ian nodded in thanks. ‘That would be great. Nothing too expensive though, because my salary really can’t afford much.’

Alex waved his hands dismissively. ‘I got this.’

‘But you got the last one!’

‘I can afford it,’ Alex shrugged. ‘Don’t worry, okay?’

Ian frowned and sagged slightly in his chair. He had been taught never to turn down free food, but he felt bad about having Alex pay for their dates all the time. It was only their second one, but it didn’t matter. Ian felt… kinda insignificant. He didn’t like depending on people for things.

‘Problem?’ Alex asked, snapping Ian out of his head.

‘No… Kinda,’ Ian admitted. ‘I feel bad about having you pay for me. Again.’

‘Don’t, seriously. Trying to drag my karma out of Satan’s ass right now,’ Alex muttered.

‘Huh?’

‘Don’t worry, Gallagher. Just… let me, okay?’

Ian narrowed his eyes. ‘I’m getting the next one.’

‘There’ll be a next one?’

‘I’m hoping.’

‘Me too,’ Alex smiled.

‘Mr Lysenko,’ a waiter greeted, approaching their table. ‘What can I get you? Anything to drink to start?’

‘Beer,’ Alex said. ‘You know the one.’

The waiter nodded. ‘Yes, sir. And for your friend?’

‘Ian,’ Alex supplied. ‘Drink?’

‘Uh… Lemon, lime and bitters?’ Ian said, surprised at the familiarity between Alex and the waiter.

‘Certainly, sir.’ The waiter bowed slightly and left.

‘Do you come here a lot?’ Ian asked.

Alex grinned. ‘Every couple months. I have business here.’

‘Oh? What kind of business?’

‘Business.’

_Okay, that’s not suspicious._ ‘Right.’

‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing illegal,’ Alex said, rolling his eyes, and looking behind Ian as the waiter reappeared with their drinks, setting them in front of the pair.

‘Have you decided on your main course?’ the waiter asked.

‘Roast chicken, and that lobster thing I had last month,’ Alex supplied.

‘Is there any salad with the chicken?’ Ian whispered to Alex over the table.

Alex nodded to both Ian and the waiter, who bowed again and returned to the kitchens. ‘You think I would pick you something without a salad?’

‘Touché,’ Ian grinned. ‘So how was your day?’

‘Not bad. Had to make good on all my promises of dinosaur books, so me and Yev took a trip to the bookstore.’ Alex shook his head fondly. ‘Kid’s gonna be a nerd.’

‘That’s not a bad thing,’ Ian said, sipping his drink. ‘But uh… I feel like I still don’t know anything about you.’

‘Why are you so intent on finding shit out about me?’ Alex asked, raising an eyebrow at him.

‘I’m just interested in finding out more about the guy I’m pretty much dating.’

‘There’s nothing to know. Alex Lysenko has had a boring life.’

‘Well, how did you get into dealing with youth offenders?’

Alex rolled his eyes. ‘Fell into it.’

‘How?’

‘I know what they’re going through. I’ve been there. I had a PO who suggested I get into counselling or whatever, because I was good at sorting shit between other guys while I was in juvie,’ Alex shrugged. ‘That’s all you’re getting out of me tonight, so I hope you enjoyed it.’

‘You’ve been to juvie?’ Ian asked, eyebrows shooting up. ‘What for?’

‘Petty shit.’

‘Like?’

‘Were you listening when I said the vault had been shut?’ Alex shook his head. ‘It’s behind me, and I don’t want to dive back into it.’

‘Oh.’ Yeah, Ian could understand that. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s fine, I get it.’

‘Well, I’ve said that I used to do the same as my brother,’ Ian said quietly. ‘So no judgement from me.’

‘Thanks, man.’

‘Were you serious?’

‘Huh?’

‘About me not getting anything else out of you.’

‘You can ask, but I won’t guarantee I’ll answer you,’ Alex shrugged. ‘I get the feeling you’ll keep asking me stuff, no matter if I do or don’t reply.’

‘Then why not just answer?’ Ian smiled. ‘Gotta be a lot easier, right?’

‘Fine. Ask me whatever.’

Ian bit his lip, pondering whether or not he should ask exactly what was on his mind. _Fuck it._ ‘How did your wife die?’

‘Wow, way to bring the mood down, man,’ Alex huffed. ‘Wrong place, wrong time.’

‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning that’s where we’re stopping talking about her. Anything else?’ Alex asked, sipping calmly from his drink.

‘What happened to your parents?’

‘They died.’

‘And you have no other family?’

‘Nope.’

Ian sighed. ‘I can’t imagine not having a family.’

‘Trust me, you’re not missing much.’

 

* * *

 

It seemed like Ian wanted to crawl into Mickey’s fake life and learn fucking everything. Mickey was making up half this shit on the fly – Mickey had never been to juvie, because he had never been caught doing anything that could land him there. And Svetlana – well, there was definitely some truth that rung with the _“wrong place, wrong time”_ statement. Wrong fucking circumstances. It was Mickey’s fault she was dead and their kid didn’t have a mother.

Ian kept asking, and Mickey kept making shit up. Stuff he had never even thought about before, but every single piece of it was a lie.

Alex Lysenko liked the colour blue. His favourite animal was a shark. He had never had a pet. Both his parents were dead and he had been to juvie. He had no siblings, no other family, no one who gave a shit about him, other than Yev. Alexei Lysenko also had a legitimate background in counselling, and was not involved in illegal activities, with the exception of his youth. Alexei was, in essence, a model and upstanding member of society. The three tattoos he had were the only things that might give anyone any reason to question him – and even then, only if they were old fashioned and still believed that tattoos must make someone a delinquent.

Other than that – everything Alexei Lysenko stood for was the complete opposite of Mickey.

Mickey liked red, for starters. Red was angry, the colour of blood – it meant someone was getting hurt, or had been hurt. It meant something real and passionate. (The fact that Ian’s hair was red had nothing to do with it, but was now a happy coincidence.) Mickey liked wolves, once upon a time, he’d had a Boxer-Rottweiler cross, and there was a menagerie of siblings and family members who were all still very much alive, and most definitely gave a shit. On top of that, Mickey had more than three tattoos – he’d covered more than three before their date tonight, in fact.

Mickey had a dodgy background, full of loopholes, grey areas, and questionable morals. He was a Milkovich, through and through, and was everything the name suggested. He was trouble. He was dangerous. Fuck with him and he’d fuck you right back with ten times the strength.

Alexei Lysenko was a nice guy with a thin, barely there nasty streak.

Mickey Milkovich would slit your throat while you were sleeping and not bat an eyelash.

There was a sliding spectrum of the personality Mickey was portraying right now, and with every question Ian asked, he was moving further out of Alex territory and closer to the bumpy middle ground where no one knew what was real and what wasn’t.

Every question dug Mickey into a deeper hole, because everything he said was a complete lie, and if Ian ever found out, then it would ruin whatever they had managed to build on the liquefying plateau that bridged the gap between being Alex or Mickey.

It was shaky ground, and Mickey much preferred solid land.

 

* * *

 

As promised, Mickey picked up the bill, and he was fucking glad that it was pretty much the only thing Ian didn’t question. He really didn’t need to know anything about how he got the majority of his paycheck.

Ian drove them back to Mickey’s apartment in silence, while his fingers drummed beats onto the steering wheel. He kept glancing over to Mickey, and the only reason he knew that, was because he had his eyes trained on Ian the entire time.

Mickey didn’t even bother to watch where they were going and make sure it was actually the right direction, because it wasn’t a far or difficult drive between Mickey’s apartment and the restaurant. He was sure Ian would get it eventually.

As Ian pulled up outside Mickey’s building, he said, ‘So, uh. Night?’

One side of Mickey’s mouth was tugged up into a half smile. ‘You wanna come up?’

Ian laughed under his breath and turned his car off. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

‘Come on then, Gallagher,’ Mickey said, leaving the car and waiting for Ian to lock it, before they walked into his building and into the elevator.

There was a tension in the air as the elevator rose up to Mickey’s floor. He definitely wasn’t entirely opposed to just ripping Ian’s clothes off right there in the lift, but they should probably get into the apartment before that happened, because there was a teenage girl sitting on Mickey’s couch right now, and she probably didn’t want to witness that particular show.

Ian must’ve felt it too, because he stepped closer to Mickey and moved in for the kill, but Mickey dodged it artfully. Ian made a whiny noise in the back of his throat, the same kind that Yev made when Mickey told him they weren’t going to _Jurassic Park_ for the fifth day in a row, but Mickey just shook his head.

‘If I start now,’ he murmured. ‘I’m not going to stop.’

Ian made the noise again, but took half a step back, still staring at Mickey with _I’m gonna fuck you so hard_ eyes.

They reached Mickey’s floor and walked to his door at an acceptably fast pace, opening the door quietly as to not wake Yev, but they still probably scared a little bit of pee out of the babysitter.

‘Shit!’ she squeaked. ‘You scared me!’

‘Sorry,’ Mickey smiled. ‘How was he?’

‘He was great! Out like a light,’ Nina replied triumphantly. ‘How was your… thing?’

‘Date,’ Mickey supplied. ‘Good. It uh… went well.’

Nina blushed. ‘I’ll get out of your hair then.’

Mickey laughed and pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He handed her a few notes and gave her a grateful smile. ‘Thanks for this.’

‘No problem,’ she shrugged. ‘He’s a cool little dude. I’m up for babysitting if you need me again.’

‘That’d be good,’ Mickey said, following her to the door. ‘Drive safe and all that.’

‘Will do,’ Nina nodded. ‘Night!’

‘Yeah, night,’ Mickey said, waving lamely, then shutting the door firmly behind her. He flipped the lock and let out a sigh. ‘Let me check on Yev. Be right back.’

Ian nodded and shucked off his jacket while Mickey quickly went down to Yev’s room to check he really was sleeping. Surprisingly, Nina had been right, so Mickey darted back to the living room and toed his boots off.

‘He out?’ Ian murmured.

Mickey nodded. ‘Dead to the world.’

Ian grinned and closed the distance between them. He cupped Mickey’s face and kissed him gently, slowly. Apparently, Ian got bored quickly, and his kissing turned faster, harder, and more insistent.

Mickey got the point and tugged him backwards, down the hall and into his bedroom. He was focused on kissing Ian back with the fervour he was currently being treated to, but he also really didn’t want to be caught by Yev, so he broke away to shut the door.

Ian just moved his mouth down Mickey’s throat and latched onto the skin, biting and licking.

‘Hey, no marks above the collar, man,’ Mickey murmured idly, threading his fingers into Ian’s hair and pulling him away from his neck. ‘Don’t wanna have shit to explain.’

‘Explain to who?’

‘Anyone.’

‘Kay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Anything _below_ the collar is good, right?’

Mickey grinned. ‘Very.’

Ian licked his lips and drifted his eyes down Mickey’s torso, and to where he could see Mickey’s cock straining against his pants. He stepped closer and palmed him slowly, tilting his head as he did so. ‘Last question for the night.’

‘Uh huh?’

‘When was the last time you got laid?’

‘Fuck, man,’ Mickey groaned. ‘Three years, five months, twelve days.’

‘Hmm. Tomorrow you’ll be able to say _yesterday_.’

‘That sounds really fuckin’ good,’ Mickey nodded, reaching up to kiss Ian again, as his hands worked of their own accord to free the redhead of his shirt. He pushed it off Ian’s shoulders and ran his hands down the tight muscles of his chest. ‘Holy shit.’

‘What?’ Ian asked, removing Mickey’s shirt as well to reveal the white tank underneath. He made an impatient noise at the offending item of clothing, but disregarded it in favour of biting Mickey’s shoulder and sucking up a mark. But then he stopped, and Mickey’s heart sped up a little more. _There was a tattoo right there._

‘Is that make up?’ Ian asked, frowning at the taste on his tongue and making a face.

Mickey was spared having to come up with an answer by his door being opened. ‘Daddy?’

He had never been so glad to be cockblocked by his son in his entire life. ‘Yeah, bud?’

‘You didn’t come tuck me in,’ Yev said sleepily.

‘Shit, sorry,’ Mickey threw an apologetic smile to Ian, before he picked up his son and carried him back to his room. ‘Good timing, kid,’ Mickey whispered, tucking Yev’s sheets in under the mattress.

‘Why?’

‘Just because, okay?’

‘Okay,’ Yev sighed and buried himself (and Spike) into his bed a little bit more.

‘Night, bud,’ Mickey said, kissing Yev’s forehead, before leaving the room.

‘Night, Dad,’ he heard Yev reply.

Mickey closed his door, two-thirds of the way like usual, and took a deep breath before he went back to his room. Ian was standing there, buttoning his shirt back up. The fuck? ‘What are you doing?’

Ian sighed. ‘I should go, Alex. It’s a school day tomorrow.’

‘Fuck, that’s right,’ Mickey muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

‘Raincheck?’ Ian asked, smiling hopefully.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Definitely raincheck.’

Ian stepped close and kissed him again, before he went past Mickey and into the living room to get his coat and shoes again. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

‘’Course,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Tomorrow.’

‘Okay. Bye, then,’ Ian said, opening the door and standing on the threshold to the landing. ‘Sorry about the blue balls.’

‘Won’t be blue for long,’ Mickey winked.

‘I may need photographic evidence..?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Text me when you’re home, yeah? Don’t want you to crash.’

‘Ooh, is it gonna be that good?’ Ian asked, biting his lip suggestively and waggling his eyebrows.

‘I’m always good.’

‘I better get going then.’

‘Uh huh,’ Mickey laughed. ‘Drive safe!’

Ian stuck his tongue out as he walked across to the elevator, and as he went in and the doors started sliding shut, he blew Mickey a kiss.

Mickey shook his head and shut his door. _Fucking sap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: it's now 2:20am, i'm sitting in my room singing along with my music ('lover' by sons & lovers btw - would recommend), and my mother just opens the door and is like "are you singing". no mum. i'm not. you're imagining things. i also now have another cat in my room.


	6. The Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Yev, they’re still hot. You’ll burn your throat and get blisters and never be able to eat anything ever again,’ Alex said, rolling his eyes at Ian.  
> ‘But Dad! Fire cannot kill a dragon!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> apologies in advance for the brain fart and how to train your dragon 2 references. apologies for every damn reference in this chapter, tbh.

They never really got to take that raincheck. The most they did was a couple of quick handjobs, because they decided that would be easier to cover up if Yev walked in on them again. Saturday, they decided, would become date night, and Nina became the regular babysitter. Ian finally got to pick up the bill for something, about three weeks after the first date.

It was a nice little Italian restaurant, and Ian was celebrating the fact that he had finally managed to make Alex eat a salad. Ian was happily chomping through his warm chicken salad, trying to hold in his snickering at the faces his boyfriend (well – he assumed they were boyfriends, though they hadn’t really labelled it yet) was making at the very green taste of the lettuce.

‘Why do you eat this?’ Alex grimaced, dragging a chunk of lettuce through the extra dressing he had ordered. ‘This is disgusting.’

‘Aren’t you trying to promote healthy eating to Yev?’ Ian asked, gesturing at the man opposite him with a piece of chicken speared on the end of his fork.

‘Not “promoting” so much as “going along with it” because he’s the one telling me he wants to live off fuckin’ tofu or some shit.’

‘Yev wants to eat tofu?’

‘No fuckin’ clue. He’s all… vegetables and fruit,’ Alex shuddered. ‘Still not entirely convinced he’s actually my kid.’

Ian laughed. ‘Maybe he’s just more like his mother?’

Alex rolled his eyes and prodded his salad, probably hoping more croutons would fall into existence. ‘Yeah, great. Another Russian with a fuckin’ claw hammer is exactly what I need.’

‘She was Russian?’ Ian asked, this being completely new information, because Alex’s wife was usually out of bounds for conversation topics.

‘Yeah,’ Alex nodded.

‘Tell me about her? I mean, if you want. Don’t feel pressured or anything.’

Alex let out a deep breath and picked through his salad for a few moments, eating a bit of bacon and a few more shards of lettuce, before he put his fork down and looked at Ian across the table. ‘I suppose if we’re gonna do this thing, then you might as well know.’

‘Okay,’ Ian smiled encouragingly. ‘You can say as much or little as you want.’

‘Hah. We’ll see,’ Alex sipped on his drink and cleared his throat. ‘Her name was Katya. Our fathers knew each other and kind of… set us up. They decided when we were kids that they wanted us to get together or something, and we became best friends. I told her about me, so she said that to get me off the hook, she would marry me and be like… a permanent beard, but with the condition that we would have kids, as well.’

‘So…’ Ian frowned. ‘Was there like a “blindfold me and I’ll pretend you’re a dude” sort of situation?’

‘Uh, no. There was a turkey baster,’ Alex muttered. ‘But yeah. She was strong, fiercely protective and an incredible woman.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ian murmured, reaching for Alex’s hand across the table and running his fingers over his knuckles. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you by asking.’

‘It’s fine,’ Alex said. ‘I’ll have to get over it eventually. It was close to five years ago.’

‘Right. Wrong place, wrong time.’

‘Yeah.’

Ian chewed on his lip as he studied the way Alex had closed off his body. Ian noted he did that whenever it came to talking about his past, like he was defensive of it and didn’t want Ian to know anything about who he was. So Ian decided to change topic. ‘How was your week?’

And just like that, Alex was back to normal. ‘One of my kids got time added to his sentence for beating someone up.’

‘What? Oh my God.’

‘Yeah, I know, right? He was doing so well – taking courses and learning useful shit, then some guy calls him a nerd, and he goes off his nut,’ Alex shook his head in disbelief. ‘But whatever.’

‘Everyone else is doing good?’

‘Yeah, everyone else is fine.’

‘That’s great,’ Ian smiled. ‘You’re fantastic at your job, Alex.’

‘I fuckin’ try. Oh, Yev wanted me to ask you if you’d come round tomorrow?’

‘Did he?’ Ian asked. ‘Uh, yeah. Sure. Love to.’

‘Thank God,’ Alex said, dramatically wiping his hand across his forehead. ‘He wants to bake.’

‘Bake?’

‘Yeah, cookies and shit like that. Not _get_ baked.’

Ian laughed. ‘Thank God for that. Want me to bring all the stuff? Or do you have it already?’

‘Nah, he made me go out and buy it.’

‘Man, he’s got you wrapped around his finger, doesn’t he?’

‘Something like that,’ Alex smiled. ‘You wanna get outta here?’

‘Definitely,’ Ian grinned, calling the waiter over to take care of the cheque.

 

* * *

 

The second Nina was out the door, Ian and Mickey got straight down to it. Shirts flew off and pants were tugged down awkwardly as they stumbled the now familiar route to Mickey’s room. Ian shut the door gently while Mickey undid his belt and tossed it onto the pile of clothes accumulating in the corner of his room.

Ian strode over, eyes dark and jeans hanging low on his hips, and pulled Mickey to his chest, running his hands down the firm muscles of Mickey’s back.

‘Jesus fuck,’ Mickey groaned, as Ian raked his teeth over the pulse point in his neck. ‘Bed, under covers.’

Ian hummed and walked them towards the edge of Mickey’s bed. ‘Finally gonna get the nine inches, huh?’

‘You’re not fuckin’ stopping me, Gallagher,’ Mickey replied. The backs of his legs hit the edge of the bed, and Mickey collapsed backwards, kicking his jeans and boxers off in one fell swoop. ‘Get the fuck over here.’

Ian shrugged and kicked his jeans off, choosing instead of crawl up Mickey’s body and rut against him slowly. ‘Let me have my fun first.’

Mickey groaned and bucked his hips up into Ian’s, causing their dicks to brush gently. ‘Fuck you.’

‘In a minute,’ Ian said, kissing Mickey’s deeply, then working his way down his body. When he reached Mickey’s hips, he bit shallowly next to the tattoo of a moth Mickey had there. He kissed it quickly, then continued on to his target.

Mickey gasped and clenched his hands tightly into the sheets when Ian licked a long, broad stripe from the base to the slit of his cock. ‘Fuck,’ Mickey hissed, as Ian licked the head a few times, then took it into his mouth. ‘Shit.’

Ian chuckled and the vibrations sent waves through Mickey’s body. He started bobbing his head up and down, coming off every few times to lick the slit. ‘How you feeling, babe?’

‘Less talking, more sucking,’ Mickey breathed, detaching one of his hands from the sheets to card his fingers through Ian’s hair. ‘Second thought, come back up here.’

Ian grinned and wiped the mix of spit and precome from his face. He bit the inside of Mickey’s thigh, and worked his way back up to Mickey’s lips, pausing briefly to pay attention to his nipples, then eventually, hovering over him. Ian supported most of his weight on his elbows, but rested some on Mickey’s body, keeping one of his legs between Mickey’s. ‘Hey,’ he murmured.

‘Sup, man. How’s the weather down under?’ Mickey replied sarcastically.

‘Hmm… Hot,’ Ian winked.

Mickey hit his shoulder and rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a fuckin’ dick.’

‘You asked about the weather. What the fuck were you expecting?’

‘I don’t fucking know. Just get on me,’ Mickey said dismissively. ‘Shit’s in a box on top of my cupboard.’

‘What? Why?’ Ian asked, getting up off the bed and walking over to find the box. (It gave Mickey the chance to admire Ian’s sculpted back muscles and perfect ass, so he wasn’t really complaining about the lack of contact just yet.)

‘Because I have a six year old who goes through my drawers,’ Mickey deadpanned. ‘Get the shit, a’ight?’

‘Yeah, I’ve got it,’ Ian said, opening the box. ‘Shit, Alex. What the fuck even is half this stuff?’ he asked, pulling out a length of beads.

‘God, stuff I rarely get time for. Those are Ben Wa beads.’

‘What else is in here?’ Ian said, half to himself, bringing the box over and sitting on the bed.

‘Oh my God, are we seriously about to have a show and tell with all my toys right now?’ Mickey asked exasperatedly. He pushed himself up onto his elbows and decided the fastest way to get Ian in him would be to list off all his stuff. ‘A’ight, whatever. Ben Wa beads, couple plugs, one that vibrates, bunch of dildos. We good?’

Ian raised his eyebrows and pulled one out of the box. ‘This one has a suction thingy.’

‘Wow, why the fuck might that be?’ Mickey said, faking surprise and shutting the box, making sure Ian had the lube out of it already. ‘You stick it on somethin’ and go to town.’

‘Really?’ Ian asked, still looking at it in wonder.

‘Yes, really. You got a raincoat?’

‘Uh…’ Ian put the lube and dildo on the bed and went over to his jeans to search through the pockets. ‘Yup!’

‘Good. Bring it here right the fuck now,’ Mickey said, squirting some lube on his fingers and wasting no time in pushing a finger into himself. _God_ , it had been too long since Mickey had had the time to do this. Or had anyone _else_ do this. Yev always seemed to have perfectly timed nightmares to stop Mickey from getting his ins. His glorious, glorious ins.

‘Jesus, seems like you don’t even need me,’ Ian said quietly, thoroughly enjoying the view of Mickey’s finger disappearing in and out of himself.

‘I swear to God,’ Mickey hissed. ‘Get that fuckin’ thing on and get your ass over here.’

Ian laughed quietly to himself and ripped the foil to get the condom out and roll it on, as Mickey added a second and third finger in quick succession. ‘You good to go?’ he asked.

Mickey nodded. ‘Give me a couple seconds.’

‘Okay,’ Ian squirted a bit of lube onto his fingers and took over the job from Mickey, so the other man could swing the sheets over them – just as a precaution in case Yev decided to wander in. Ian slid his fingers in and out of Mickey for another minute or two, just to be safe. ‘Good?’

‘Good,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Do it.’

Ian grinned and lowered himself, taking the time to kiss Mickey gently and deeply, pulling his legs around his waist, as Ian rubbed the tip of his cock over Mickey’s lubed up hole. ‘God, we almost made it to a month of dating with no sex.’

‘Oh, wow. Were we aiming for a milestone or some shit?’ Mickey asked, nudging Ian’s ass with his heel. ‘Do the thing.’

‘Are you the thing?’ Ian tilted his head and still circled Mickey’s hole torturously slow.

‘No, you shoving your damn dick in my ass is the thing, so fucking _do_ it.’

Ian bit his lip and lined himself up, preparing to push in when –

‘Daddy?’

Ian groaned and rolled off Mickey. ‘Shit.’

‘Fuck you for being so damn slow!’ Mickey hissed at Ian, then turned to his son. ‘What’s up, bud?’

‘I had a bad dream,’ Yev sniffed.

‘Go to the kitchen and I’ll be there in a sec, okay?’

‘’Kay,’ Yev nodded, turning and leaving Mickey’s room.

Once his son was clear, Mickey turned back to Ian and swatted his chest. ‘See? This is why time is of the fuckin’ essence!’

Ian scratched at his stomach and settled back into the other side of Mickey’s bed. ‘Okay, we need to be like… organised with this shit.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ Mickey asked, standing up and searching for his boxers. ‘How?’

‘Dunno,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Prep yourself before dinner? Wear a plug out? We get back and you just needa whip it out and a couple seconds later, there’s a dick in your ass.’

‘Interesting,’ Mickey muttered, pulling his boxers on, having found them in the mess of clothing on the floor. ‘Put some fuckin’ pants on.’

‘Why?’

‘Yev likes you. Wouldn’t hurt to have you floating around after a nightmare, yeah?’ Mickey sighed and opened his door. ‘Maybe wait until you’re like… deflated.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian called back, as Mickey walked down the hall and into the kitchen, flicking on a light in there as he did so.

Yev was sitting at one of the chairs at the kitchen table, kicking his feet in the air and hugging Spike close to himself. ‘Dad?’

‘Hey, kid,’ Mickey said, crouching in front of him. ‘C’mere.’

Yev slid off the chair and into Mickey’s arms, which wrapped protectively around him in an instant. ‘I dreamed of home.’

Mickey nodded and rubbed Yev’s back. ‘Don’t tell Ian that, okay?’

‘Okay. I’ll tell him witches.’

‘Good plan,’ Mickey replied softly. ‘It was just a dream, yeah? Dreams aren’t real.’

‘It was scary,’ Yev said, burying his face in Mickey’s neck and clutching at Mickey’s shoulders. ‘More scary than witches.’

‘I know, bud. But we’re good, right? We’re safe, and nothing can touch us,’ Mickey said soothingly. ‘It was just a dream.’

‘I know.’

‘Dreams can’t hurt you. Nothing can hurt you, because I’ll hit them off, right?’ Mickey turned his head to kiss Yev’s hair. ‘I won’t let anything hurt you.’

‘I know,’ Yev nodded. ‘What if it hurts you?’

‘Part of my job as a dad.’

‘Won’t you be scared?’

‘Yeah, bud. Sometimes. You gotta face your fears eventually, though.’

‘Will you?’

Mickey sighed and released Yev. ‘Dunno. You want some happy milk?’

Yev nodded and climbed back onto the chair, right as Ian came into the kitchen. ‘Ian!’

‘Hey, Yev,’ Ian smiled, sitting with him at the table. ‘What’s up?’

‘I had a bad dream about witches, so Daddy’s making me happy milk,’ Yev explained.

‘Happy milk?’ Ian asked, raising an eyebrow at Mickey.

‘Warm milk with special ingredients,’ Mickey said, giving Ian a small smile from where he was standing at the kitchen bench. ‘You want some?’

‘Sure, I’ll have some happy milk.’

Mickey laughed and got three mugs from the cupboard, along with the bottle of milk and a few other bits and pieces. ‘How do you feel about cinnamon?’

‘I like it?’ Ian said suspiciously.

‘Good,’ Mickey poured milk into the three mugs, then put them in the microwave for a little while. ‘Yev, we’re out of marshmallows. Have you been eating them?’

Yev blushed and toyed with Spike’s tail. ‘No.’

‘Yev…’

‘Maybe.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and wrote _marshmallows_ quickly onto the shopping list. The microwave dinged, and Mickey took the mugs out, testing the temperature of the milk, and deciding it was good. He put a few drops of vanilla essence in each mug, sprinkled a tiny bit of cinnamon and sugar in each, then stirred it all together and handed mugs to each Yev and Ian. ‘Happy milk,’ Mickey shrugged, watching Ian’s face as he took a sip.

‘Oh, wow. Okay,’ Ian said, nodding in approval and taking another sip.

Yev giggled at Ian’s reaction and started drinking his own. ‘Happy milk.’

‘Where’d you get the idea for this from?’

‘My Ma,’ Mickey said. _Shit._ Alex Lysenko’s mother was dead. ‘She made me this when I had nightmares when I was younger, before she died.’ Not entirely a lie. Mickey’s mother _had_ always made this when he had a nightmare. She wasn’t dead, though.

‘Your mom was onto something with this,’ Ian said, finishing off his milk.

Mickey shrugged. ‘Yeah, well. The marshmallows were my addition, but my kid has apparently eaten them all.’

‘Spike helped!’ Yev protested.

‘Yup, I’m sure he did.’

Yev rolled his eyes and finished his milk, hopping off his chair and passing Mickey his mug to put in the sink. They’d deal with them tomorrow. ‘Thank you, Daddy.’

Mickey smiled and put his own empty mug in the sink. ‘Want me to tuck you in?’

Yev nodded and extended his arms up to his father. ‘Bed, please.’

Mickey huffed in amusement and lifted Yev, settling his weight on his hip. As he walked out the kitchen, he paused at Ian’s chair. ‘Can you turn the light off after putting your mug in the sink?’

‘’Course,’ Ian smiled. ‘Night, Yev.’

‘Night, Ian,’ Yev said, falling back asleep already.

Mickey shook his head at the face Ian was making at him (a weird cross between constipated and “I’m about to burst into tears of cute”) and carried Yev down to his room. With his free hand, he pulled the covers back, then put Yev down. ‘Remember it was only a dream, bud.’

‘I know,’ Yev sighed softly and wiggled down into his bed. ‘Tuck me, please.’

‘A’ight,’ Mickey yawned and tucked the sheets in. ‘Sweet dreams, kid.’

‘Mmkay,’ Yev nodded. ‘Night.’

Mickey pushed Yev’s hair from his eyes and gave him a parting kiss on the forehead, before he left to go back to his room.

Ian was there already, lying on the other side of the bed, like it was his own. ‘Yev asleep?’

‘Give it about a minute, and yeah,’ Mickey climbed into his bed and melted into the mattress with a satisfied sigh.

‘You’re a great dad, by the way. I don’t know if I’ve ever mentioned it,’ Ian smiled.

‘Mm,’ Mickey’s eyes slid shut of their own accord. ‘I try.’

‘It looks effortless, like second nature to you.’

‘More like third or fourth nature,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘I hate to leave you high and dry, but I’m fucked, Gallagher. I gotta sleep.’

‘That’s okay. Cool if I sleep over?’ Ian asked tentatively.

‘Sure. Didn’t get a dick in my ass, so we might as well skip straight to the post sex spooning.’

‘Spooning?’ Ian repeated.

‘Mm, come here,’ Mickey said, waving his hand behind himself to feel for Ian’s wrist. Once he caught it, he pulled Ian closer and wrapped the arm over his waist. ‘Night, Gallagher.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian placed a soft kiss behind his ear. ‘Night, Alex.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey was really fucking confused when he woke up the next morning. There was an arm slung over his waist, a leg in the middle of his own, and something pressing against his ass. He turned his head slowly and saw orange from the corner of his eye and immediately relaxed. It was just Ian. Not that it could’ve been anyone else, obviously, but it was nice to be sure.

‘Morning,’ Ian said huskily, pressing his lips to the back of Mickey’s neck and tightening his arm. ‘Wasn’t sure if I woke you up.’

‘How could you have woken me up?’ Mickey mumbled. ‘Unless you’re talkin’ about the thing rubbing against my ass right now.’

‘Nah, got up for my meds,’ Ian replied. ‘Came back to bed about twenty minutes ago.’

‘Time is it?’

‘Around eight.’

‘Yev up?’

‘Yeah, got him a bowl of Lucky Charms. He directed me to the right one.’

‘Oh good,’ Mickey smiled, happy that Ian was getting along with Yev so well. ‘He make you pick out all marshmallows?’

‘Surprisingly, no.’

‘Hmm,’ Mickey turned around in Ian’s arms, then looked up to him and smiled. _He’s so beautiful._ ‘Mornin’.’

‘Hey,’ Ian grinned. ‘You wanna pick up where we left off last night?’

Mickey yawned. ‘Should probably shower, actually.’

Ian’s eyes lit up. ‘Want me to join you, then?’

Mickey bit his lip and almost said _“Fuck yeah!”_ before he remembered that water tended to wash shit off. Like concealer, such as the stuff he had on patches of his arms and chest. ‘Nah,’ he said quietly. ‘Gotta make sure someone’s keepin’ an eye on the kid.’

Ian nodded. ‘Okay. I’ll got watch cartoons with him?’

‘Yeah, a’ight. If he tries to get you to put on _Jurassic Park_ or something, just ignore him and change the topic.’

‘He’s seen those movies?’

‘My kid’s obsessed with dinosaurs,’ Mickey sighed, rolling his eyes. ‘I made the mistake of telling him about them, and now he won’t stop watching the damn things.’

‘That’s kinda cute though.’

‘It stopped being cute after the fiftieth time,’ Mickey grumbled. He kissed the side of Ian’s throat, then rolled out of his arms and stood to gather clothes to take to his bathroom. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Mmkay,’ Ian smiled, following him out of the bed and leaving the room to go see Yev.

Mickey decided there was minimal chance of him and Ian getting it on today, so he wouldn’t bother putting concealer on any of the tattoos he would usually cover – the exception being his knuckles. They would always be covered. Kinda made Mickey sad he didn’t get to show them off anymore. He picked out a black, long sleeved Henley, a random pair of jeans and some fresh boxers, and went off into the bathroom.

Out of habit, he didn’t lock the door because Yev knew not to come in when the shower was running, unless there was an absolute emergency – like a finger being lost or something being on fire.

He turned the shower on and stepped in, letting the water run over his hair and shoulder blades for a few moments. Mickey tipped his head back and ran his fingers through his wet hair, pushing it away from where it had fallen into his eyes.

Mickey vaguely registered the noise of the curtain being pulled back, then realised that there was someone else in the bathroom. His eyes flew open, and in all his naked glory was Ian. ‘Jesus Christ, don’t do that.’

‘Do what?’ Ian asked, climbing into the shower with Mickey.

Bells started going off in Mickey’s head because _fuck_ , if Ian was here to do the whole “couples washing each other” bullshit, then Mickey’s entire cover would be blown. Svetlana’s techniques for applying concealer were solid, but not ironclad, and shit was bound to wash off and reveal certain motifs that Mickey did not want to be known to Ian.

‘Fuck, man,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Opening my damn shower.’

‘What, thought this was a re-enactment of _Psycho_?’ Ian asked jokingly. ‘Nah, you’re too pretty.’

‘Pretty?’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian grinned and pushed Mickey to the other side of the shower, more or less out of the water.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Mickey hissed, automatically bracing himself against the wall as Ian bent him slightly at the waist. ‘Where’s Yev?’

‘Watching cartoon. Anyway, I was telling you about how great I am at rimming, right?’ Ian said, barely audible over the sounds of the water, and placing kisses down Mickey’s spine. ‘Figured I’d need to give evidence eventually.’

‘Like right now?’ Mickey asked, turning back and seeing Ian get to his knees. ‘Is that necessary?’

‘You turning me down on eating you out?’ Ian raised his eyebrows incredulously as he parted Mickey’s cheeks.

‘Uh, well,’ Mickey felt Ian lick a broad stripe over his hole. ‘Shit, that’s up for debate.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian bit one of Mickey’s cheeks gently. ‘I’m taking a random guess and saying you’re _not_ turning me down?’ He punctuated his sentence with another lick and probed Mickey’s hole with the tip of his tongue.

‘Oh fuck no,’ Mickey sighed, hanging his head and feeling blood rush to his cock. He let out a gasp and dragged his fingers uselessly down the tiles as he felt Ian start to point his tongue and push it into Mickey quickly.

Ian hummed and changed pace, starting to alternate between wide licks, tongue fucking, and laving at Mickey’s hole.

‘You weren’t joking,’ Mickey said, between small gasps, and chewing on his lip like it was his last meal. He took one of his hands from the wall and dropped his other arm to the elbow, then started stroking himself slowly.

This wasn’t getting fucked in the ass, but damn. Mickey definitely wasn’t opposed to it.

Mickey sped up his movements as he got closer and closer to coming. He was sent over the edge a couple moments after Ian added in a finger beside his tongue. He came, shooting white ribbons over the wall in front of him with a low moan, and felt Ian’s hands and face leave his ass.

‘Good?’ Ian asked quietly, standing right beside Mickey in the spray of the shower, starting to wash himself, like his dick wasn’t as hard as it clearly was.

‘Fuckin’ great,’ Mickey nodded, pushing himself off the wall. ‘You want me to finish you off?’

Ian smiled. ‘If you want.’

‘Don’t get too excited,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and started to quickly jerk Ian off, as the other man just continued washing himself.

Ian stopped after a couple of moments, and watched Mickey’s hand fly over his cock. He came a few seconds later, coming onto Mickey’s hand. ‘Thanks,’ he said quietly. ‘This was a pretty good start to the day, huh?’

Mickey grinned. ‘Yeah, pretty good.’

Ian laughed. ‘Want me to wash your back or something?’

‘Nah, man. I got it.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Oh, um. Do you mind if I borrow a shirt?’

‘Yeah, go for it. Second drawer in my thing.’

‘Cool,’ Ian said, stepping out of the shower and grabbing a towel from the pile, wrapping it around his waist.

‘Oh, and one thing?’

‘Mm?’

‘Use some mouthwash or somethin’. I ain’t kissin’ you ‘til you have.’

Ian laughed. ‘Sure thing,’ he said, leaving the bathroom.

After the door was firmly shut again, Mickey let out a sigh of relief as he looked down at where his tattoos should be. He silently sent a prayer of thanks to Svetlana for her skills with makeup. They had withstood being beaten upon with water for a good almost twenty minutes, and nothing had washed off.

Mickey didn’t pay as much attention to washing it off as he usually would have, because now he was quite aware of Ian’s tendency to pop up wherever he wanted. Still, the concealer came off, and his tattoos reappeared, and Mickey decided to dry himself and get clothed as quickly as he could.

While he applied the concealer to his knuckles, he ran the tap over the sink, put his toothbrush under the water, and swished some Listerine around in his mouth. That way, if Ian asked why he took so long, he could say he had brushed his teeth – and more or less have the evidence to prove it.

 

* * *

 

Ian was happy. Like, really happy. He felt like he had joined a readymade family, with a wonderful husband and adorable son. Of course, he and Alex weren’t married – they had barely been dating for a month, but he could easily see himself staying with Alex and Yev for the rest of his life. He would be happy. _They_ would be happy.

Ian and Yev had just finished off their chocolate chip cookies, and had slid the tray into the oven to bake for a while. Alex had been sitting at the kitchen table, reading something on his phone. Ian noted he did that a lot; like he was waiting for something or obsessively checking statistics for sport. Maybe he was reading weather updates, though Ian was pretty sure that if Alex wanted to check on the weather, then he would just go to the window and see what was happening outside.

‘Ian?’ Yev asked, tugging on the hem of Alex’s borrowed shirt.

‘Yeah?’ Ian said, looking down to Yev, who had somehow managed to get flour in his dark hair.

‘Have you see _How To Train Your Dragon 2_?’

‘I have.’

‘Do you wanna watch it?’

‘Do you think maybe we should ask your dad first?’ Ian suggested, unsure of Alex’s feelings towards that particular movie.

‘Dad says yes,’ Yev said quickly. ‘Right, Daddy?’

‘What?’ Alex said, looking up from his phone. ‘Yeah, sure.’

‘Yay!’ Yev smiled. ‘Can you put it on, please?’

Alex moved his feet off a spare chair, and walked over to the DVD player and TV to organise it. ‘Butts on the couch.’

‘ _Fine_ ,’ Yev said, like it was a huge chore. ‘C’mon, Ian!’

‘Okay, I’m coming,’ Ian smiled, following Yev to the living room and sitting in the corner Yev directed him to.

‘Daddy can sit in the middle.’

‘Can I now?’ Alex asked, plopping down between them, slightly closer to Ian than he probably needed to be. (Not that Ian was about to start complaining.)

Ian got up about fifteen minutes in, and pulled the cookies out of the oven. He shuffled them onto a cooling rack, surprised that they were actually okay. One was slightly burnt on the edge, but that was an outlier and not to be counted, so Ian decided they were perfect.

‘Are they done?’ Yev asked excitedly, as Ian sat back down.

‘Yup.’

‘Can I have one?’

‘I think they might be a bit too hot still.’

Yev got a determined glint in his eyes, and stood up as he yelled, ‘Fire cannot kill a dragon!’ then ran off towards the kitchen.

‘Shit,’ Alex swore, launching himself off the couch after his son. ‘You’ll fucking burn yourself!’

Ian cackled on the couch, as Alex came back, holding a very disgruntled looking Yevgeny under his arm. ‘Really? You let him watch _Game of Thrones_ as well?’

‘I try not to,’ Alex said. ‘But he finds a way if there are dinosaurs or dragons involved.’

‘Daddy, put me down!’ Yev whined. ‘I want a cookie!’

‘Yev, they’re still hot. You’ll burn your throat and get blisters and never be able to eat anything ever again,’ Alex said, rolling his eyes at Ian.

‘But Dad! Fire cannot kill a dragon!’

‘Yeah, okay, but you’re not a dragon. Sit your tiny ass down. Give it half an hour, then you can have warm cookies and milk, a’ight?’

Yev deflated with a long sigh, but stopped struggling in his father’s arms and sat calmly back on the couch when he had been put down again. ‘Okay.’

‘Okay. Good.’

Yev huffed, and continued watching the movie, smiling happily and leaning forward slightly when Valka and Cloudjumper appeared onscreen. ‘I like that one,’ he whispered.

‘Yeah, we know,’ Alex muttered, like he and Yev had had this conversation before.

‘Are the cookies cold enough?’

‘I’ll go check,’ Alex said, getting up and disappearing to the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later holding a tray with a plate of cookies and three glasses of milk on it. ‘Go for it. Yev, you can have two, okay?’

Yev nodded and picked out the biggest cookie, chomping on it and dunking it in his milk.

‘Good?’ Ian asked, watching Alex closely for any signs that Yev was just a tiny garbage disposal that would eat anything.

Alex nodded and swallowed the food in his mouth. ‘Great.’

Ian smiled. ‘Thank God,’ he murmured, finishing off his own cookies and milk.

Turns out that was perfect timing, because that was when Gobber started talking about meatballs, water was being collected, and Stoick had started whistling to Valka.

Ian didn’t even notice Alex was singing along softly, until he gave a sigh at the same time as Stoick did. So Ian decided to join in and picked up Valka’s part (albeit much deeper), singing, ‘And love me for eternity…’

Alex and Yev turned to him with matching raised eyebrows, and Ian was slightly intimidated, but continued anyway. ‘My dearest one, my darling dear, your mighty words astound me, but I’ve no need of mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me.’

Alex grinned and sang the next part, much to his son’s delight, then together he and Ian finished off the rest of the duet. ‘You’re such a dork,’ Alex murmured, smiling at Ian before kissing him quickly and turning his attention to the movie, like nothing had happened.

Ian just smiled and sank backwards into the couch, daring to rest his hand on Alex’s knee as he did so.

Yeah, Ian could imagine keeping this happy, perfect little family forever.

 

* * *

 

It was a Thursday night. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the absolute last thing Mandy wanted to do was get dressed in anything but sweatpants and one of her husband’s old t-shirts, and to go see her father.

Terry fucking Milkovich. There was no way in Hell that she could refuse him, because if Terry wanted you, then you fucking went. It didn’t matter if you were halfway through taking a shit, or if you were giving birth. You dropped everything and went to where he wanted you.

Mandy had no idea what it was about, and neither did her husband, Emilio, but they dressed the way Terry expected – formal to the edge of being black tie – and got into the car he had sent for them.

Mandy was expecting to be taken to the house, and her fear must have been palpable, because she had always been good at hiding it, but Emilio had always been good at picking up on it.

He put his hand on her arm and squeezed gently in reassurance. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he murmured. ‘Probably just wants to check how business is going.’

‘Yeah, or see if I’m knocked up yet,’ she muttered. ‘There’s something going on and I don’t like it.’

‘I know,’ he replied quietly. ‘Just keep your pokerface on about everything, yeah?’

‘Yeah, I know,’ she sighed and looked out the window, seeing that they were heading in the direction of her father’s favourite hangout for most nights: _The Smoking Pole_ strip club.

‘We’re going to the club, so that’s a good sign,’ Emilio noted. ‘Means it’ll be short.’

‘Yippee,’ Mandy said sarcastically. ‘And don’t you get any fucking ideas while we’re there. Got it?’

‘Got it,’ he nodded, smiling ruefully at her. ‘When we get home..?’

‘Absolutely not.’

He rolled his eyes and rubbed his thumb over Mandy’s arm. ‘Fair enough.’

As they stopped outside the club, Mandy rolled her shoulders and cracked her neck, just like Mickey used to, right before he got into a fight or set down the law of the land. It was a habit she had picked up from him before he… left. ‘Let’s get this over with, then.’

Emilio nodded and opened the door, waiting for her to get out, before putting his hand on the small of her back and leading them inside, trailing after Terry’s guy.

They were ushered in through the VIP entrance, and made the quick walk up the winding staircase, and across to the area on the second floor next to the double height pole and aerial silks space. Terry was sitting in his usual plush, red velvet booth, a couple of girls hanging around either side of them. When he saw Mandy and Emilio approach, he shooed the girls away without a second thought. ‘I see you got my message.’

‘We got your summons,’ Mandy corrected. ‘What do you want?’

Terry smiled and looked to Emilio, as he sipped whatever the fuck he had in his glass. ‘She’s feisty, isn’t she? Bet you have fun with her.’

Emilio laughed and nodded, and Mandy was fucking glad she knew that her husband was just putting on a show. He was expected to act like Mandy was a brainless piece of meat in front of Terry, but he was one of the most considerate and genuinely kind men Mandy had ever met. ‘Yeah, she’s a handful,’ Emilio grinned. ‘What can we do for you, sir?’

Terry let out a melodramatic sigh and leaned forward. ‘I’ve gotten word that my son is still alive.’

‘Which one? Iggy? That’s a surprise,’ Emilio said smoothly, feeling Mandy tense up.

_He knows._ Mandy fought to keep herself composed. _Oh fuck, he knows. He knows about Mickey._

‘It is, but not Iggy. The one who’s supposed to be dead,’ Terry said, watching the pair of them for anything that could give them away. ‘Mickey.’

‘Mickey’s dead,’ Emilio continued. ‘He, Svetlana and their son all died, almost five years ago. We watched their car explode.’

Terry shrugged. ‘Turns out he’s still alive.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve got my people working on that,’ Terry said lowly, cracking his knuckles and standing up in front of them. ‘We’re not sure where he is just yet, but I know for a fact that _you two_ were closest with him and his half-breed spawn.’

‘Dad, what –’ Mandy started, but was silenced by Terry holding up a hand.

‘Don’t even fuckin’ try it,’ he said. ‘You have two days to get your shit together and tell me where he is.’

‘We don’t know where he is,’ Emilio said, faking confusion. ‘We didn’t even know he was alive until a few moments ago.’

‘Well,’ Terry sighed and shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I suggest you get _your_ people on it and find out where he is. Things will not look good for you – for _either_ of you – if you turn up with no information on Saturday night.’

‘Dad, this is completely unreasonable!’ Mandy said. ‘We have no fucking idea!’

‘You do _not_ raise your voice at me, _girl_!’ Terry roared, almost too loud over the music booming through the speakers all around. ‘Get your woman in line, Moretti!’

Emilio set his jaw and ignored Terry’s comments. ‘We don’t know where Mickey is. If we did, I can assure you, we would’ve told you.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Terry snarled. ‘Forty-eight hours to find the little shitstain, or I’ll leave it to your imagination what’s gonna happen to you. Now, get the fuck outta my club.’

Emilio gave a brisk nod, and turned quickly, pulling Mandy along with him.

Before they left earshot, Terry called to them, ‘Here’s a hint. He’s found himself a redhead, apparently. We want him, too.’

_A redhead?_ Mandy stored that away to remember, and before she knew it, Emilio had taken control and walked them out the door, back to the car.

He could feel Mandy shaking as she held her tongue until they were back at their house, and settled for just holding her hand to comfort her.

Once inside the door, Mandy bit her lip and crushed the heels of her palms to her eyes. ‘He fucking knows.’

‘How the fuck did he find out?’ Emilio asked, as they went to their bedroom and started getting out of their stupid formalwear.

‘I don’t know!’ Mandy said, hands shaking too much to undo the pearl button at the neck of her dress. ‘Someone must’ve finally let loose!’

‘One of Mickey’s?’ Emilio said, taking Mandy’s hands gently and undoing the button for her. ‘They wouldn’t. They’re too loyal.’

‘No one else _knew_!’

‘What about the guys at the restaurant in Seattle?’

‘Well, they’re yours, so you can deal with them,’ Mandy shook her head. ‘Actually, you find out who squealed, and I’ll shove a fucking knife in their throat.’

‘I’ll get someone onto it,’ Emilio nodded. ‘We should let Mickey know that Terry’s going after him and Yevgeny.’

Mandy nodded and took a couple of deep breaths, leaning into her husband for support. ‘I’m fucking scared.’

‘I know,’ he nodded, rubbing Mandy’s back gently. ‘We’ll deal with it, right?’

‘Yeah. Don’t really have a choice, right?’

‘Right,’ Emilio kissed her hair and released her, directing Mandy to sit on the bed. He went over to their wardrobe and pushed clothes aside to get to their safe. He opened it and pulled out the burner phone with Mickey’s number programmed into it – they had taken to getting a new one every few months and re-entering the number. ‘You text Mickey, I’ll talk to my guys and figure out who said what,’ he crouched in front of Mandy and gave her a hopeful smile. ‘We’ll be okay.’

Mandy nodded. ‘We can try.’

 

* * *

 

**_Text From: Unknown  
_ ** _911 CODE PURPLE. 48 HOURS. THE BEAST KNOWS. HE’S SEARCHING. HE’S COMING. TAKE THE REDHEAD. 911. CODE PURPLE._

Mickey’s heart stopped as he read over the text, going over it at least twice more to make sure he had read it right.

You’ve got 48 hours. The Beast knows. He’s coming. Take the redhead.

‘Fuck,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Fuck, fuck, shit.’

Terry knew he was alive.

Terry was looking for him, and he would come as soon as he found him.

Terry knew about Ian.

Somehow, “fuck” didn’t even begin to cover it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so there's a bit more about wtf is going on with mickey (｡◕‿◕｡)


	7. Tough Luck, Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘My name’s Mikhailo.’  
> ‘No.’ Ian’s eyes widened and he pushed Mickey backwards as he propelled himself to the other side of the bed. ‘Oh no, you’re joking, right?’  
> Mickey stood up and raised his eyebrows. ‘Got it then?’  
> ‘You’re Mikhailo Milkovich,’ Ian said. ‘Oh my God.’

Mickey was freaking the _fuck_ out, to say the very least. The only person that text could have come from was Mandy, and he had really been hoping that the only time he would get a message from her would be to say that Terry was dead and Mickey could come home.

Instead, it had been the complete opposite.

_911._ Shit’s going down and someone’s in danger.

_Code Purple._ Aka, us. We are both in danger. They had decided on purple because of the two colours you needed to make it – red and blue. The alternate code colours. Red if Mandy was in trouble and had no other option but to make contact with Mickey, and blue if someone had somehow found out that Mickey was alive and they were coming after him.

Mickey would’ve been fine getting a _“code blue”_ text from Mandy, because he could take care of himself and Yev. He had been for the past few years, and it wouldn’t be difficult to disappear again, no matter how much Mickey and Yev were attached to this place.

_“Code red”_ would’ve been a bit harder. Mickey would undoubtedly drop everything to come to his sister’s aid, even if it meant exposing and risking himself. She had put herself, her husband, and everything they had on the line to help Mickey and Yev get out, so he would return the favour without a second thought.

But _“code purple”_? They were fucked. Mickey needed to get his ass back in contact with his people and figure out what the fuck was happening to Mandy. To do that _alone_ within the timeframe of 48 hours would be difficult, but now he had to get Yev and _Ian_ to safety, as well.

That was going to be a fucking mission.

In addition to that, Terry Milkovich was a man made for war, and he could go for weeks and months without breaking a sweat if he got his men to do battle with Mickey’s, all the while threatening the lives of Mickey’s son and the man he might’ve maybe sort of started to fall in love with. After a month. Fuck, he really had gone soft.

Mickey would be able to keep Ian under false pretences for a week, tops, if he had to whisk him away to an undisclosed location to wait it all out, but ultimately – Mickey was going to have to come clean to Ian. God knew that might just destroy everything that they had built in such a short time. Keeping Ian safe and hidden during school time would be fucking Hell on Earth, but it had to be done.

In any case, Mickey was used to this sort of shit from Terry, and it was just like riding a bike. This particular bike was kinda rusty after having been stored in a leaky garage for five years, but Mickey fell into the old role easily and went into battle mode.

Mickey didn’t bother trying to sleep that night. He made a list of things he had to do, and at the top of that list was gather his essentials, because tomorrow, he would pick Yev up from school, tell Ian they were going on a surprise getaway, and get the fuck out of Seattle.

Might probably come across as kidnapping when everything was out in the open, but that couldn’t really be helped. Ian either dealt with it, or faced Terry Milkovich. (And as much faith as Mickey had in his boyfriend, he really didn’t think that Ian could go up against his father and all of his men and win.)

Mickey started with his clothes. He got a large duffel bag out of the cupboard in the hall and packed away most of his clothes that he would need. The suit and tie Mickey had kept in his wardrobe, tucked away right at the very side of the rack, was brought out as well. Mickey might have to go buy a couple more tomorrow. He had always been expected to dress a certain way, so he wasn’t about to fall back into his old life without his armour.

Next, he went around his apartment and put everything he would need in another bag. Chargers, the few guns he had stashed in a small box on top of his cupboard – behind the _other_ box – and even took down Yev’s duck. He couldn’t leave it there, because his son would never forgive him.

Before Mickey left his room, he looked up at his box of toys, and pondered on whether to take anything or not. _Essentials. Only need essentials._ So… no. With a sigh, Mickey left his room, and continued to the living area.

In the piano next to his bookshelf, he had stashed a small cloth bag, inside of which was his signet ring, the chain with Svetlana’s locket and wedding ring, and a few thousand dollars in cash. On the bookshelf, in the bottom left hand corner, he had his book safe. Fucking ingenious, that thing was. It looked intelligent – something about encyclopaedia of botany? – was leather bound, and even had some dust on it.

He pulled it from the shelf and opened it, going through the documents inside. Fake passports from four different countries, a bunch of driver’s licenses, birth certificates – everything was still in there, so the entire book got put in his bag.

Mickey went around gathering up other weapons and cash he had hidden, eventually ending up with a pile of five knives, two pairs of brass knuckles, mace, and a taser, and almost ten thousand dollars in cash. There was probably more lying around, but Mickey didn’t exactly need it. Not if he was going home.

Or home adjacent, rather.

 

* * *

 

Ian was still waiting for Alex to pop up somewhere on the school grounds. He knew that he had students to come talk with today, so he _should’ve_ been here, but Ian had received no word to contradict it, and no word to explain Alex’s absence.

Maybe he had developed the flu in the eighteen hours Ian hadn’t seen him… and his phone had died? Yeah, that was it. Alex’s phone had just died. Ian didn’t need to worry about anything at all.

Ian decided to text him anyway. Just to see if maybe he was pulling these theories out of his ass. Which he was, but whatever.

****

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _hey :) ur not here? u sick or smth?_

Ian was kind of hoping not to get a reply, but a few minutes later, his phone went off against the wood veneer of his desk.

 

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _yeah no had to take care of somethin_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _smth more important than work? lol_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _yes_

Oh. Ian hadn’t been expecting that. He had sort of got the vibe from Alex that his work was of the utmost importance to him, so if something was more demanding than his job, then it must be a pretty fucking high priority.

 

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _anythin i can do to help?_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _nah. wanna go away for a few days?_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _like a romantic getaway? ;) sure_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _won’t be that romantic bc yev's comin_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _oh… okay :) i'm in~ where we goin?_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _surprise_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _i hate surprises_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _tough luck sunshine_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _no hints???_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _hahahahahahahaha_

**_Text Sent: Alex  
_ ** _takin that as a no. lunch over. see u later x_

**_Text From: Alex  
_ ** _aight. pack a bag when u get home. week worth of clothes and anything else u need/want. i'll pick u up at 6._

Ian was about to protest the part where Alex requested he pack a week’s worth of clothing, because he couldn’t be away from work for a _week_. That was kind of crazy to ask, and definitely didn’t come under the category of a “weekend getaway”. Nevertheless, he would do as Alex asked, because maybe he just wanted Ian to have options, clothing-wise.

As the first students for Ian’s next class started filtering in to their desks, he pushed the thought out of the forefront of his mind, and packed his leftover food away.

He would deal with Alex later, but right now he needed to do his job.

 

* * *

 

‘Dad?’ Yev called, sitting in front of the little bookshelf in his room.

‘Yeah?’ Mickey said, popping his head around the door.

‘How many books can I bring?’

Mickey tilted his head in thought. Yev’s books weren’t that big, so he could probably take all of them, but they were trying to take only essentials. Mickey couldn’t take his toys, Yev couldn’t take all his books. ‘How many do you want to bring?’

‘All of them.’

‘You can’t take all of them, bud.’

‘What about all my dinosaur books?’ Yev said, taking them out and forming a small pile next to him. ‘There’s only…’ Yev counted his books, sticking his tongue out in concentration. ‘Seven.’

Mickey cracked a smile and held his hand out for the books. ‘Yeah, okay. We packed extra shoes for you, right?’

‘Yep.’

Mickey tucked the books Yev gave him into his son’s small suitcase. ‘You’ve got everything you need?’

‘Yep,’ Yev nodded, watching Mickey to make sure he put all the books in.

‘Spike?’

‘Yep.’

‘Do you want to take your own pillow and blanket?’ Mickey asked, zipping the case shut.

Yev hummed thoughtfully, then nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘Okay. We’ll just put those in the car so you can nap if you want,’ Mickey said, pulling the suitcase along behind himself as he went to the front door.

‘Dad?’ Yev asked, pillow and blanket bunched up in his arms. ‘Where are we going?’

Mickey crouched down and held his arms open for Yev. ‘C’mere.’

Yev narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but stepped into Mickey’s arms and allowed himself to be held.

‘I said I would keep you safe, right?’ Mickey murmured. ‘That I would never let anyone or anything hurt you.’

‘Yeah…’

‘So we’re going home.’

Yev started shaking his head, his hair brushing back and forth across Mickey’s neck. ‘Nope. I don’t wanna.’

‘No, Yev, we’re going home to Chicago, not home, like _home_ home.’

‘Why are we going, then?’

‘Because I got a text from my sister, your Aunt Mandy, and she’s in trouble, so we gotta go help her,’ Mickey explained. ‘I’m not gonna let anyone hurt you, I promise.’

Yev nodded and as Mickey let him go and stood back up, he asked, ‘Why is Ian coming?’

‘Ian has to come. He might get hurt if we don’t bring him,’ Mickey gave Yev an encouraging smile. ‘But nothing bad is gonna happen to us.’

Yev nodded again and bit his lip, like he was deliberating on something else to say. Mickey let him think for a few moments, and was eventually rewarded with Yev saying, ‘Are you gonna tell him?’

‘Tell him what?’

‘That you’re Mickey.’

Mickey sighed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Not now, probably not today, but soon, yeah. I’ll have to.’

‘Are you gonna tell him we’re Milkovich?’

‘Plurals, kid.’

‘Milkoviches?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey’s mouth quirked into a small smile. ‘Thought you didn’t know what a Milkovich was?’

Yev shrugged. ‘I lied.’

‘Yeah, I see that. Ready to go?’

‘Yep,’ Yev said, beginning to walk towards the door. ‘Wait,’ he stopped suddenly and looked up at Mickey. ‘Do we have snacks?’

Mickey laughed and opened the door. ‘Yeah, we’ve got snacks.’

‘Who’s gonna feed Mike?’

‘Chelsea.’

‘Oh. Okay. We can go now.’

‘Good to know we’ve got your permission,’ Mickey muttered, ushering Yev out, pulling the suitcase along with him, and shutting the door behind them. He locked the door, double checked it, and let out a deep breath. ‘A’ight, let’s go.’

 

* * *

 

Ian was waiting out front of his apartment building when Alex pulled up. He smiled and trotted over to the beat up Jeep, and handed his bag to Alex, who shoved it unceremoniously into the backseat with Yev.

‘Hey,’ Ian smiled, leaning over to kiss Alex as he entered the car. ‘How are you?’

Alex shrugged and pulled into traffic. ‘Okay.’

‘Hi, Ian!’ Yev said, waving his hand between the front headrests.

‘Hey, buddy. How was school?’

‘Fun!’

Ian saw Alex roll his eyes, and decided it was probably just at his son’s enthusiasm about education or something. ‘So, where are we going? It looks like we’re packed for a week.’

‘We are,’ Alex said, flicking his eyes up at the mirror to look back at his son.

Ian shook his head. ‘I can’t be away from work for a week. Neither can you.’

‘Can and will.’

‘I can’t afford to miss a week of school.’

‘I’ll reimburse you.’

Ian blinked. _What?_ ‘I’m sorry, you’re going to pay me to be away from work?’

‘Yup,’ Alex replied. ‘If we’re longer than the weekend.’

‘Why?’

‘Because.’

Ian nodded, like that was a completely rational explanation, though he had no idea why he thought that. He stayed quiet until they had been driving for almost an hour, when he broke the silence by asking, ‘So, quick question.’

‘Yeah?’ Alex said, switching on his headlights.

‘Where are we going?’

Alex was silent for a few moments, chewing on his bottom lip. He let out a sigh and turned briefly to face Ian. ‘Chicago.’

‘Chicago?’ Ian repeated in surprise, his eyebrows heading north.

‘Chicago.’

‘Why?’

Yev said something softly to his father that Ian didn’t quite catch, and probably wasn’t meant to, either, because Alex replied in the same tone – and language.

‘What is that?’ he asked.

‘Huh?’ Alex said.

‘What language is that?’

‘Ukrainian.’

‘You trying to keep secrets from me?’ he joked.

Alex turned to face Ian with an unreadable expression. He looked back straight ahead, and muttered, ‘Yeah.’

‘Wait, seriously?’ Ian asked, starting to freak out a little bit, as it occurred to him that he actually didn’t really know that much about Alex. He could be a murderer on the run or something, currently in the process of isolating Ian from everything he knew and about to take him into the woods to chop his body into pieces or something.

Ian’s fears melted away as Alex gave him a warm smile and laughed gently. ‘Gotta keep some stuff a surprise, right?’

Ian huffed his amusement and returned the smile. ‘Right. But why are we going to Chicago? You taking me to see my family or something?’

Alex stiffened slightly in his seat and shrugged. ‘Wasn’t the plan, but uh… I suppose.’

‘Oh good! I’ll call –’

‘Don’t call them,’ Alex said immediately. ‘Don’t text them, either. Don’t tell them we’re coming.’

‘Why not?’

‘Surprise them.’

‘Why not take a plane instead? It’s a lot faster.’

‘Driving is more fun.’

Ian frowned and studied Alex’s face in the dying light. ‘You’re acting really weird, Alex. Is everything okay?’

Yev said something in Ukrainian that sounded like a question, and Alex glared sharply at him in the mirror. ‘No,’ he said.

‘Was that directed at me or Yev?’ Ian asked.

Alex was quiet for a couple of minutes, before he muttered, ‘Both of you.’

 

* * *

 

By the time they pulled into a random, seemingly decent looking motel in a small town, it was almost half past one in the morning, and Yev was snoring lightly in the backseat. Ian had been quiet for some time now, and Mickey was pretty certain that he was officially suspicious of this entire “weekend getaway” crap. By the time they got to Chicago, it wouldn’t even be the weekend anymore, but driving was a fuckload safer than planes – Mickey knew that Terry had people in airports, and they had probably been alerted that he would be re-entering the city.

‘A’ight,’ Mickey said, pulling into the carpark. ‘You stay in here with Yev, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got any rooms.’

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded. ‘Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?’

Mickey’s tongue darted out to wet his lips of its own accord, and he ignored the question, reaching back beside Yev to his bag, and pulled out a wad of notes.

‘Holy shit, where’d that come from?’ Ian hissed. When Mickey just shrugged, Ian groaned. ‘Oh God, this is so not I wanted to get involved with!’

‘Hey, my kid’s sleeping,’ Mickey reminded him. ‘I’ll be right back.’

Ian shook his head in disbelief, and Mickey decided that would be a good time to just leave the car and go inside. He pushed through the doors into the office and rung the bell on the desk, beginning to tap his feet impatiently. He didn’t like waiting, but waiting when he knew Terry was after him made Mickey nervous, and being out here in the open made him feel like there were bugs crawling over his skin.

Finally, a short, disgruntled looking woman in a dressing gown appeared from somewhere in the back. ‘Can I help you?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, sorry to wake you or whatever, but I need a room,’ Mickey said quickly. ‘Preferably one with two beds. I got a kid and my partner in the car.’

The woman nodded. ‘How many nights?’

‘Can I pay on a day by day basis?’

‘Sure,’ the woman said, looking Mickey up and down before passing him a key. ‘You wanna pay now or in the morning?’

‘How much is it?’

‘Fifty a night.’

Mickey nodded and peeled a note off his stack and handed it to the woman. ‘Room number?’

‘207,’ she said.

‘A’ight. Thanks,’ Mickey took the key and left the office, going back to his car.

Ian looked up from whatever he had been doing on his phone as Mickey opened the door. ‘Get a room?’

‘Yeah, 207. Can you go up ahead of me and open the door so I can carry Yev in?’

Ian nodded and accepted the key Mickey dropped into his palm. ‘Can I take my bag?’

Mickey raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, I’m not about to stop you.’

Ian rolled his eyes and stepped out of the car, swinging his bag over his shoulder and waiting beside the back passenger door for Mickey to take Yev out so he could shut it again. ‘Where’s the room?’ Ian asked quietly.

Mickey jerked his head towards the winding iron staircase next to the office door. ‘Up there, probably.’ He unclipped Yev’s seatbelt and scooped the boy and his blanket into his arms. ‘Get his pillow?’

Ian took the pillow from where it had been under Yev’s head, and tucked it under his arm as they climbed the staircase. ‘207?’

‘207,’ Mickey nodded. He followed Ian across the landing that ran along front of the rooms, and to the room with the corresponding tarnished numbers on the door.

Ian unlocked the door and pushed it open, running his hand along the wall beside the door for a light switch. He found it and subsequently flicked on a light in the main area. ‘This isn’t too bad,’ Ian said, entering and looking around.

The door opened directly into a tiny living area and secondary bedroom, with a kitchenette pushed to the left and a single sized bed on the back wall. A small table with three mismatched chairs sat just inside the area of the kitchen, with a TV and couch to the right of the front door. At the foot of the single bed were two doors – one which led to what must be the other bedroom, and the other to a small ensuite bathroom.

Ian dumped his bag on the couch, and went over to the single bed, pulling back the covers and doing a quick check for suspicious stains and/or weird, moving little black dots. Spotting none, Ian nodded and put Yev’s pillow down, then moved aside so Mickey could put him down.

‘I’m gonna go get my stuff from the car,’ Mickey murmured. ‘Stay here with him.’

Ian nodded. ‘How long are we gonna be here? You have a lot of stuff in there.’

‘I don’t have that much stuff, Jesus. Chill,’ Mickey rolled his eyes and went back down to the car. He grabbed his two bags, the suits he had bought earlier in the day, and Yev’s suitcase. Somehow, he managed to lock his car again, then he went back up to the motel room, dumped his stuff, and locked the door. He hauled his stuff to the main bedroom, and hung up the suits on a portable wardrobe rack he found in there.

Ian had trailed in behind him and went over to the suit bags, unzipping one slowly and raising an eyebrow at the contents. He trailed a finger gently down the ash grey fabric of the suit jacket and shot Mickey an incredulous look. ‘Are you whisking me away so we can elope or something?’

Mickey looked up from where he had been going through his bag of clothes to find something suitable to sleep in. ‘Nah, it’s uh… Don’t worry.’

‘No, what is it?’

Mickey sighed. Time to start letting the floodgates open and tell Ian stuff. ‘It’s what I used to refer to as my battle armour.’

‘Battle armour?’ Ian laughed. ‘Who you going to war with? An accountant or something?’

‘Accountants are nowhere near as well dressed as I used to be,’ Mickey replied instantly.

‘I’m sorry, what?’

‘Don’t worry.’

Ian hummed thoughtfully and lifted the smooth silk of the dark grey tie on the tip of his finger. ‘Are you going to use this to restrain me, Mr Grey?’

Mickey stiffened and turned around slowly. _Here we go._ ‘Okay, that’s not my name.’

Ian’s brow furrowed at Mickey’s demeanour, apparently confused by the change in attitude. ‘It was just a joke, Alex.’

‘Yeah, about that…’ Mickey cleared his throat and thought of a way he could do this without freaking Ian out completely. Maybe by telling him only part of the story? Perfect. ‘Don’t get mad, or run, or try to call someone, okay?’

Ian took a step back, heading towards the door. ‘You sound like you’re about to kill me or something here.’

‘I swear to God, I’m not going to murder you. I don’t want to hurt you, ever,’ Mickey said, putting out his hands in a placating manner. ‘Sit down, a’ight?’

Ian seemed to relax and moved to sit on the bed, and Mickey couldn’t help but think how fucked this guy would be if he was ever faced with a murderer who told him _“I’m not going to kill you!”_

‘So? What’s going on?’ Ian asked. ‘I get the distinct feeling you’re not telling me something.’

Mickey sighed and sat on the bed next to him, before getting up and pacing instead. What he was about to do would put Ian at risk and there was no way he could take it back. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’

‘Yeah, of course. If there’s something wrong, I can help you,’ Ian nodded, leaning forward and reaching out to catch Mickey’s wrist. ‘Let me help you.’

Mickey groaned and shook his head. He pulled his arm gently from Ian’s grip and rubbed his eyes. ‘Yeah, okay. Last chance to pull out.’

‘Not gonna pull out. I’m here for you,’ Ian said encouragingly. ‘I mean, unless you _are_ a murderer or something. Tell me what’s going on, Alex.’

Mickey let out a deep breath and paused in his pacing. ‘I got a text from my sister.’

‘Your sister? You don’t have a sister.’

‘I do, actually. And brothers.’

‘Alex, I’m –’

‘Also, that’s not my name.’

Ian blinked in confusion. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘Alexei Lysenko isn’t my name,’ Mickey repeated. ‘It’s a pseudonym.’

‘What?’

‘Do I seriously gotta fuckin’ repeat it, Gallagher?’ Mickey snapped. This entire situation was winding him up, tight as a coil.

‘Alex, I –’

_Fuck it._ ‘Mickey.’

‘What?’ Ian asked in confusion.

‘God, maybe it wasn’t a great idea to spring this on you at 2am,’ Mickey said tiredly. ‘My name is Mickey.’

‘So, what, is Alexei your middle name or something?’

‘No, I’ve got no idea who the fuck Alexei is. Alexei is no one.’

Ian narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. ‘Is your son’s name really Yevgeny?’

‘Yes,’ Mickey nodded.

‘But your name is Mickey.’

‘Yes.’

‘And your wife?’

‘What about her?’

‘Was she Katya?’

Mickey shook his head and scratched at his neck. ‘Her name was Svetlana.’

Ian nodded slowly. ‘So… Why the fake name? Are you actually gay?’

Mickey felt a smile break out on his face. ‘Yeah, I’m actually gay. The only thing I lied about my wife was her name.’

‘Why are you lying in the first place?’ Ian asked. ‘I don’t understand. You have nothing to be running from, Al- Mickey.’

‘Wrong.’ Mickey sat down on the bed and took a few deep breaths. ‘You’re from Chicago, right.’

‘Right…’

‘So am I. Southside.’

‘I’m Southside!’ Ian said happily. ‘You shoulda just said!’

‘I can’t believe how fuckin’ calm you are about all this,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘You’re fuckin’ ridiculous, Gallagher.’

‘Well… I’m pissed that you’re hiding shit from me, so I’m holding out to hear your reason before I go apeshit at you,’ Ian shrugged. ‘So give me a good reason not to beat you to a pulp for lying to me.’

Mickey’s eyebrows shot up at the calm manner with which Ian delivered his threat. ‘Well, I would beat you in a fight, for starters.’

‘I doubt that. I was in the army and ROTC,’ Ian said proudly.

‘Sit the fuck down, Jim Stark. You left the army,’ Mickey snapped. ‘A’ight. You wanna know what the fuck’s going on?’

‘Yes, Jesus.’

‘A’ight, well, everything you know about me is a lie.’

Ian nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Figured as much.’

‘No, you fuckin’ didn’t. I mean, literally everything. I hate blue, I’ve got a fuckton of family, and I’ve never been to juvie.’ Mickey stood back up and began pacing again. Jesus fucking Christ, he could feel restless energy rolling through him. ‘This is not going how I wanted it to.’

‘Then just out with it!’ Ian cried.

Mickey turned and glared at him. ‘My fucking son is sleeping!’ he hissed. ‘Don’t fucking yell!’

‘Then hurry the fuck up and tell me what’s going on before I call the cops and tell them some _lunatic_ has kidnapped me!’

Mickey stopped pacing in front of Ian and crouched down. ‘Figure it the fuck out, gingerbread. I’m Southside, I’m on the fuckin’ run from the Southside, my name is Mickey, and I’ve got suits.’

Ian’s anger faltered for a second, and to anyone else, that probably wouldn’t have made sense, but Mickey saw something click as Ian studied his face. ‘Wait, Mickey’s not your name, is it? It’s a nickname?’

Mickey nodded. ‘My name’s Mikhailo.’

‘No.’ Ian’s eyes widened and he pushed Mickey backwards as he propelled himself to the other side of the bed. ‘Oh no, you’re joking, right?’

Mickey stood up and raised his eyebrows. ‘Got it then?’

‘You’re Mikhailo Milkovich,’ Ian said. ‘Oh my God.’

‘See why I didn’t tell you?’ Mickey said, throwing his hands up. ‘I’m still me, though. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear. You’re here so you _don’t_ get hurt.’

‘Like fuck, I am,’ Ian spat. ‘I know what you and your people do. I spent half my life avoiding them.’

‘Look, I’m not going to beat you up for being gay,’ Mickey said, rolling his eyes. ‘That would be completely hypocritical of me.’

‘You’re a Milkovich!’ Ian hissed. ‘You’re fucking dangerous!’

‘Yeah, I fuckin’ know,’ Mickey said, moving towards Ian in an attempt to calm him down.

‘Don’t fucking touch me,’ Ian said, getting off the bed and standing against the far wall. ‘You’re supposed to be dead! It was all over the news around the time I started college. Your car exploded, with you and your son in it.’

‘Nope,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Still here.’

‘I can fucking see that!’ The fire seemed to leave Ian as he sighed and sank to the floor. ‘Fiona’s gonna kill me.’

‘What?’

‘My sister. She told me not to get involved with dangerous and violent people,’ Ian laughed sadly. ‘And now I’m dating a member of the Milkovich fucking crime family!’

The side of Mickey’s mouth twisted up into a half smile. ‘Funny how these things work out, isn’t it?’

Ian shook his head. ‘I can’t be with you. I gotta go.’

‘No, you have to stay,’ Mickey pleaded. ‘You don’t have to like me, and I get why you would want to leave and never see me again, but trust me – you have to stay.’

‘Why?’

Mickey ran his tongue along his lower lip. This would definitely freak Ian out. ‘I got a text from my sister on Thursday night. A code purple,’ he said quietly. ‘My father knows I’m alive and he’s got his people out looking for me.’

‘How does this concern me?’ Ian asked, looking up at Mickey from his position on the floor.

Mickey sat on the edge of the bed opposite Ian. ‘He told them to look out for a redhead with me.’

‘Are you joking?’

‘You know who my father is and how he feels about guys that like dick,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘I’m not joking. He’s coming for me, and he’s coming for you, and he wants us both dead.’

‘Jesus fucking Christ.’

‘Yeah, that’s a bit of an understatement.’

Ian sighed and pulled his legs closer to his chest. ‘What happened to your wife? Is she actually dead?’

‘Very.’

‘How?’

Mickey stood up again and took a pillow and spare blanket from the bed, then went to leave the room, stopping by the door. ‘Wrong place, wrong time. Just like I said.’

‘But –’

‘We’re not doing this,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘I’m gonna sleep on the couch. Give you some time to think shit over.’

Ian nodded. ‘Al… Mickey?’

‘Hmm?’

‘I’m fucking pissed you lied to me,’ Ian said, standing and taking his t-shirt off. ‘Don’t be fooled into thinking otherwise.’

‘Nah,’ Mickey’s mouth quirked into another half smile. ‘You’ll probably explode in rage once it hits you in the morning.’

‘Probably,’ Ian agreed. ‘Does Yev know?’

‘Know what?’

‘That his father’s in the mob?’

Mickey rolled his eyes at Ian’s casual use of the word _“mob”_. ‘He was two when I left, and he still gets nightmares of shit he remembers seeing in that time, so yeah. He knows, even if he doesn’t understand it.’

‘Okay.’

‘Anything else?’

Ian looked thoughtful for a few moments as he yanked his jeans off. As he climbed into bed, he said, ‘Yeah. Fuck you.’

Mickey fought the urge to grin. ‘Fair enough,’ he muttered, leaving the room and closing the door on an already brooding Ian.

Damn, he couldn’t wait for the morning when Ian would be in full bitch mode.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((if ur wondering who jim stark is, he's not in game of thrones. he's james dean's character in 'rebel without a cause'.))


	8. Me, Yev, You, and a Pizza Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Look, I’m gonna be on the phone for a while. Don’t come in.’  
> ‘Who you gonna call?’  
> ‘Ghostbusters,’ Mickey said sarcastically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u to jo for beta-ing this chapter~

When Ian woke up, he had no fucking idea where he was. He looked to either side of him and saw an empty bed, and a rack with a bunch of suit cases hanging off it. Ian rolled his eyes and flopped back onto his pillows. Fucking Alex.

Oh, but wait. That wasn’t his name, was it? No. Ian had been dating Mickey fucking Milkovich for the past month. And now they were on their way to Chicago because the Milkovich patriarch wanted to kill them both. That’s right.

Ian swung his legs out of the bed and went over to where he had his bag on a chair in the corner. He dug around for his meds and took one from each container, then went quietly out into the kitchen to get some water to swallow them down with.

He hadn’t been expecting to see Mickey lying on the couch with his eyes open, as he stared up at the ceiling.

‘Hey,’ Mickey murmured. ‘How’d you sleep?’

Ian decidedly ignored him. Fuck that asshole for lying to him. Ian definitely didn’t blame him for keeping who he was a secret, but at the same time, he couldn’t fucking believe it. What an asshole for leading him on. Ian felt like he had fallen a little bit in love with a person who didn’t even _exist_ outside Mickey’s appearance.

Ian continued over to get a cup and fill it up with water. He quickly swallowed down his pills and was on his way to retreat back to the bedroom when Mickey stopped him.

‘I’m sorry,’ Mickey said, and Ian heard the springs in the couch creak as Mickey sat up. ‘I never intended to tell you, Ian. I thought that I would be able to keep it under wraps for a while longer.’

‘How much fucking longer?’ Ian hissed spinning around. ‘How long were you going to keep me in the dark for? Making me look like an absolute idiot for liking someone who wasn’t even real?’

Mickey sighed and stood up, approaching Ian and jerking his head to the bedroom as a sign for Ian to get in there so they could talk without waking Yev.

Ian reluctantly went into the bedroom and took up the same position as he had earlier – back to the wall, as far from Mickey as he could get. ‘So?’

‘If I could help it, I would never have told you. I didn’t intend to ever go back to the life I had led,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘I had everything under wraps in Seattle. Everything was good. But that all flew out the window when I got the text from my sister.’

‘And? You couldn’t just leave her to deal?’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and ground his teeth together. ‘I don’t know about you, but to me, if family needs help, I drop everything to go to them.’

Ian laughed once and without humour. ‘Well, that might be because your family tends to dabble in considerably more illegal activities than mine.’

‘Oh, yeah? Who’s selling drugs right now?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows. He knew it was a cheap shot, but he knew that the Gallaghers weren’t exactly angels either.

‘Fuck you,’ Ian hissed. ‘Carl is selling drugs on behalf of one of _your_ fucking brothers. Tony, is it?’

Mickey raised an eyebrow and dared to step closer to Ian around the bed. ‘Who would go down for it, though? There’s a reason I’ve never been to juvie or prison, and that’s because I do my shit through soldiers. That’s all your brother is – a soldier in the field. We protect our own, and if your brother goes down, he goes down alone, because he wouldn’t make it out of prison if he decided to bring my brother down with him,’ Mickey grinned and licked along his bottom lip. ‘Milkoviches might not be saints, but we know the value of loyalty and family.’

‘So then why did you leave yours?’ Ian asked, knowing he would hit a nerve with it.

Instead of whatever off the handle reaction Ian had been expecting, Mickey’s face darkened and he walked straight up to Ian, seeming much bigger than he was with the anger and danger he was exuding ‘You don’t know shit about me,’ Mickey said lowly. ‘You don’t know what my father did to me, or what he ordered to try and ruin me. Don’t speak about things you don’t understand, Gallagher.’

‘Then tell me,’ Ian said, faking nonchalance at Mickey’s attitude, though he was deeply unsettled by it right now. ‘What did he do?’

Mickey shook his head, like he couldn’t believe the nerve of this idiot. ‘You wanna know?’

‘Yup. Might get me to understand what’s going on.’ Also, Ian was itching to learn more about the mysterious Mikhailo Milkovich. He had only heard rumours about this guy, and now he had untapped access to the man himself.

‘Too fuckin’ bad,’ Mickey said, taking a step back and laughing quietly. ‘I ain’t telling you _shit_.’

‘Thought you wanted me to trust you?’

‘I don’t need you to trust me. You just gotta understand that if you don’t, and you go off by yourself, you won’t last long.’

Ian hummed thoughtfully and decided to change topic. ‘Can I ask you something?’

‘Mm?’

‘Have you ever killed anyone?’ Ian asked, not entirely sure what to expect as an answer.

He wasn’t as shocked as he should’ve been when Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘How many people?’

‘I don’t think you really want to know that.’

‘Well, I’ve only heard rumours about you,’ Ian said. ‘The Milkoviches are kind of half man-half myth, you know? Everyone makes shit up, and then everyone else accepts it because no one actually knows anything apart from those on the inside.’

Mickey’s mouth quirked up. ‘What’ve you heard about me, then?’

‘I heard that you’ve racked up a pretty high body count.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah, like… thirty or forty.’ Ian really hoped that rumour was false.

Mickey almost laughed. ‘What is that? One a month between the ages of eighteen and twenty two?’

‘Dunno. There’s a reason I teach English,’ Ian shrugged. ‘So?’

‘Uh… A bit off.’

‘Total closer to...?’

Mickey _actually_ laughed that time. ‘I’m not telling you. It could get me arrested and put in prison, asshole.’

‘So you’ve killed more than one person?’

Mickey shrugged and went over to his bag for fresh clothes. ‘Most were in self-defence.’

‘Who would be stupid enough to try and attack you?’ Ian asked, as Mickey made to leave the room.

‘People of a lower rank looking to overpower me and take control of my businesses and soldiers.’

‘So were you pretty high up in the hierarchy or something?’

Mickey shot Ian a look. ‘This conversation is over. Besides, thought you were pissed at me?’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Can’t I be fucking pissed at you but also interested at the same time?’

‘No. Makes you seem too friendly,’ Mickey replied. ‘Either hate me or love me. I can’t deal with all this middle ground bullshit.’

‘Fine,’ Ian said, standing up and flipping him off. ‘Then I hate you.’

‘A’ight,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Taking a shower. Keep an eye on Yev.’

Ian rolled his eyes as Mickey left the room and muttered _“Asshole”_ to himself. He grabbed a tank top out of his bag and pulled it over his head as he wandered into the living room to see if there was any complementary instant coffee lying around.

Ian didn’t even notice Yev was awake until his tiny voice drifted out of the huddle of blankets on the bed in the corner. ‘He’s not a bad man,’ Yev said quietly.

Ian turned around, temporarily giving up in his search for coffee. ‘Oh. Morning.’

Yev huffed in a way Ian would expect of Ale– _fuck_ – Mickey, and rolled off the bed, bringing his blanket and Spike with him. He clambered awkwardly onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table and repeated himself. ‘Daddy’s not a bad man.’

‘Yev, no offense,’ Ian sighed. ‘But the way people are and the way they are to their kids are two very different things.’

Yev shook his head and said something in Ukrainian to himself. ‘No. My daddy is keeping us safe.’

‘Oh really? Then why is he taking us right to where we shouldn’t be?’ Ian asked, sitting at the table with the boy.

Yev shrugged. ‘He could’ve left you.’

That hadn’t occurred to Ian, actually, but Yev was right. Mickey knew Ian was (supposedly) in danger, and he had decided to put himself at risk in order to keep Ian safe. He could’ve left him in Seattle without a single word, but he hadn’t. ‘I suppose that’s true. He still lied though.’

‘He lied to everyone,’ Yev rolled his eyes. ‘Would you still like him if he didn’t?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ian said honestly. ‘Probably not.’

‘Do you still like me? I lied.’

‘You’re a kid, Yev. You haven’t done what he has.’

Yev shrugged. ‘You don’t know that.’

Ian frowned and was spared having to answer by the bathroom door opening.

‘Hey, bud. Didn’t think you were awake,’ Mickey greeted.

‘Yep,’ Yev said, frowning at whatever Mickey was doing or had done. (Ian was still trying to ignore Mickey and hadn’t turned to face him yet.) ‘Your thingies, Daddy.’

_Thingies?_ Ian spun around and – ‘Holy mother of Christ,’ Ian said loudly. ‘What the shit?’

Mickey grinned. ‘No idea what you’re talking about.’

‘Um. Well. Pretty sure that at least three of those tattoos I’ve never seen before,’ Ian said, his eyes going wide.

Mickey shrugged and ran the towel in his hand over his hair again, collecting water before it had the chance to drip down his bare back. ‘Figured I’m not hiding shit from you anymore, so I don’t needa bother covering them.’

‘Covering them with _what_?’

‘Makeup. Get with the program, dumbass.’

‘But you’ve got knuckle tattoos,’ Ian said, still not quite done with stating the obvious.

Mickey’s grin widened, and he slung the towel over his shoulder to do the classic, _fists clenched and side by side_ tattoo show-off. ‘I missed these.’

‘Really? You missed having _FUCK U-UP_ on your hands for everyone to see?’

‘Let me have my fuckin’ fun, Gallagher. You know how many people have seem these in the past fuckin’ five years? Four people. Me, Yev, you, and a pizza guy one time after I had a shower and didn’t wanna cover them again,’ Mickey narrowed his eyes at him. ‘Besides, I like having a readymade threat to follow up on.’

‘Thought you were trying to convince me you _weren’t_ going to beat me up?’ Ian asked innocently.

Mickey flipped him off and went to find a shirt. (He had forgotten to take one in with him – though it was very convenient to just out with his tattoos and show Ian what he was missing, now he had apparently decided he wanted nothing to do with him.) ‘Yev, you want breakfast?’

‘Is it Poptarts?’ Yev said, slipping off the chair and shuffling towards where his father sat with a backpack full of food.

‘It is,’ Mickey nodded. ‘What one do you want?’

‘Are there any strawberry ones?’

‘Yup,’ Mickey took a pack out and gave them to Yev to do with as he liked. Usually Yev just ate them cold because he was too impatient for much more. ‘Ian? Breakfast?’

‘Anything healthier than a Poptart?’ Ian asked. Somewhere in the back of his head, it occurred to him that he probably shouldn’t accept food from someone he was trying to be mad at.

‘Got some granola bars.’

Ian hesitated, but then his stomach rumbled and he let out a resigned sigh. ‘Yeah.’

Mickey threw one of the bars at Ian and rolled his eyes at the crestfallen look he gave it. ‘Please, try to keep control of your enthusiasm. I’ll go out soon and get some real food at the same time I get a burner.’

‘A burner? Like a phone?’ Ian asked. ‘Why do you need one of those?’

‘It’s Saturday today. Tonight something is going to happen to my sister and her husband, and I want to get a couple of my guys in there to find out what.’ Mickey shrugged. ‘In any case, I need to get in touch with some people and find us a safe house or something.’

‘Don’t worry about me, I’m staying with my family.’

‘Great, then so are we.’

‘Um, no you’re not,’ Ian scoffed.

‘Hey, you gonna turn up in Chicago, tell them you’re there with your boyfriend, _Alex_ , and then have said boyfriend stay in a fuckin’ dingy old cottage somewhere?’ Mickey shook his head. ‘You’re not leaving my sight.’

‘Fuck you, yes I am. I’m not going to have you put my family at risk.’

Mickey rolled his eyes as he finally put a damn shirt on. ‘I don’t think you understand that you would be at risk without me there, man. With me or without me, someone will be on your tail, and I think you’d prefer to have the guy with a bit of firepower at your side.’

‘Oh really? You wanna bring your shit to my house? To my family?’ Ian shook his head. ‘No fucking way.’

Mickey stood up and disappeared from sight as he got his other bag and brought it over to the table and dumped it in front of Ian. ‘Look, you’ve got a choice to make. You, me and Yev stay with your family and play happy families and happy boyfriends, or you don’t tell your family you’re in Chicago and you _still_ stick with me and Yev.’

‘Those are my only options, huh?’ Ian asked, watching Mickey as he sorted through the bag and pulled out a shiny silver gun with mother of pearl inlays in each side of the handle, then checked the chamber for bullets. ‘What if I don’t want to do either of those?’

Mickey shrugged and tucked the gun into the back of his jeans. ‘Then do whatever the fuck you want. I’ll still drive you to Chicago, then I’ll put you on the first flight back to Seattle. With me, there’s a good chance you won’t die. Go off on your own, and your family’s gonna start planning your funeral.’

‘You seem pretty sure of that,’ Ian noted, toying with the wrapper on his granola bar.

‘Trust me, I know my father better than you. He has his ways to trace you back to me. You won’t last a week by yourself.’ Mickey went back into the bag and was quiet until he pulled out another gun, the twin to the one in his jeans. ‘You know how to use this?’ he asked, checking the chamber before holding it out to Ian.

Ian nodded and took it slowly from Mickey’s hand. ‘Why’re you giving me a gun? Some sort of test? See if I’ll shoot you?’

‘No, I’m going out for supplies, asshole.’ Mickey zipped up the bag and took it back to the bedroom, reappearing in a black hoodie. ‘Want anything specific while I’m out? Or are you happy to let me just pick shit out.’

‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ Ian nodded. ‘I mean, _I_ never lied to _you_.’

‘Bitch, please. You wouldn’t have given me a second look if you know who I was.’

‘Uh, yeah, because I would’ve been running in the opposite direction as fast as I could.’

‘Whatever,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Yev, want anything?’

‘Chocolate milk and oranges, please,’ Yev said from inside his huddle of blankets on the bed, where he was eating his Poptarts.

‘A’ight. I’m gonna go see if I can find a fuckin’ store. Anyone tries to get in here, you shoot first, ask questions later.’

Ian cocked his head and leaned back in his chair. ‘Does that include you when you get back?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve got shot.’

‘Oh? Tell me again how you’re not dangerous to be around.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes and set his jaw. ‘Don’t let anyone in,’ he repeated. ‘I won’t be long.’

‘Dad,’ Yev called. ‘Are you gonna do your hands?’

‘No point,’ Mickey gave his son a smile. ‘Be good, okay?’

‘Yep!’

Mickey nodded and left, shutting the door firmly on his way out.

Ian eyed up the gun on the table as he ate his granola bar, and barely noticed Yev had gotten up to put the wrapper of his Poptarts in the rubbish bin and come to sit at the table with him again.

Yev poked the barrel of the gun and looked up to Ian. ‘He’s keeping you safe.’

Ian glanced over at Yev as he scrunched up the wrapper of the granola bar in his hand and lobbed it at the bin. ‘I don’t know about that.’

‘He is,’ Yev said insistently. ‘No one finds us because he keeps us safe.’

‘Oh, really?’

‘Yep.’

‘So, what, I’m in a bubble now?’ Ian asked. ‘No one’s gonna get hurt?’

Yev shrugged. ‘Dunno. Daddy will keep us safe. He always has.’

‘Uh huh.’

Yev studied Ian’s face and leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, still swathed in his blanket. ‘Why don’t you like him now?’

‘He lied to me about who he was, and I know he’s a dangerous guy to be around,’ Ian said simply.

‘So you liked it better when Dad wasn’t telling the truth?’ Yev questioned.

‘I don’t know. I liked that person better. I liked who he was as Alex more than who he _is_ as Mickey.’ Ian sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly. ‘I don’t know what the fuck is up anymore.’

Yev was silent for a few minutes, before he tilted his head and said, ‘He wasn’t gonna tell you if he didn’t have to. Not ever.’ Yev said, as he slid off the chair and waddled over to his suitcase for some clothes.

Ian followed him interestedly and leaned against the doorway to the bedroom as Yev rifled through his suitcase where Mickey had dumped it against the wall. ‘Do you know what’s going on, Yev?’

Yev nodded and stood back up with a pair of jeans and a shirt with a dinosaur on it. (Fucking everything this kid had was covered in dinosaurs, it seemed.) ‘Aunt Mandy’s in trouble, and you always gotta help family.’

‘Is that all your Dad’s told you?’

‘He told me we’re going home, but not _home_ home, because then his daddy would get mad,’ Yev said softly. ‘But we gotta help Aunt Mandy, so we’re doing it anyway.’

‘Do you remember much about your home?’

Yev’s face darkened as he threw his blanket on the bed and started changing his clothes. ‘No.’

Ian was almost certain that Yev was lying, but he really didn’t want to push the boy and make him talk about something he so clearly didn’t want to, so Ian just nodded. ‘I’m gonna go shower. Will you be okay for ten minutes?’

Yev rolled his eyes like he couldn’t believe Ian had the nerve to ask him that, and pulled a book out of his bag. ‘Yes.’

Ian waited until Yev seemed settled on the bed with his book, before he headed into the shower and washed himself quickly. He tried to wrap his head around the fact that he was now dealing with one of the most well-known men in the Southside, but didn’t quite manage to get there.

He hadn’t really seen any concrete evidence that Mickey was who he said he was – but what the fuck would motivate him to lie? The only reason he could think of that someone would want to be Mickey Milkovich was because of the power the name commanded. The fear and money that came with it would undoubtedly be a nice bonus.

But still – this short, adorable guy who had strong opinions on what cookie was better, had seen _How To Train Your Dragon 2_ so many times he knew a damn song off by heart, and made shit called “happy milk” when his kid had a nightmare? It didn’t fucking line up with anything Ian had heard, but then again, he didn’t know what was fact or fiction when it came to Mikhailo Milkovich.

Some of the stories seemed completely ridiculous, honestly. Ian had been told that Mickey once shot a guy for bringing him cold toast, or cold coffee or something. Then, Ian had overheard a couple of people at a party, talking about how Mickey Milkovich had convinced the cousin of their friend’s big brother’s best friend to be a one time drug mule and transport something like twenty pounds of heroin across the country, and was going to be in prison for years to come, after they were randomly stopped for contraband at a checkpoint or something. There was even a rumour that Mickey had pulled someone’s tongue straight out of their head for talking back to him, but Ian didn’t think that was true, since Mickey was apparently only fourteen when that happened.

Nothing he had heard lined up with the guy he knew.

Then again, Mickey had told Ian he had lied about everything he had ever said, so what did Ian really know? Zilch. It wasn’t a great feeling.

 

* * *

 

Mickey wasn’t gone long, so he must’ve found a store pretty easily. From the bag of stuff he bought, he put a six pack of beer and a bottle of chocolate milk in the tiny bar fridge, dumped some oranges on the bench, and left the rest in the bags on the little kitchen bench.

‘There’s a salad thing in there for you,’ Mickey said, taking the burner he had got, and retreating to the bedroom.

‘Salad goes in a fridge,’ Ian called, not moving from where he was on the couch reading one of Yev’s books.

‘Then put it in the fridge.’

‘You put it in the fridge.’

Mickey poked his head around the door and threw a crumpled piece of paper at Ian to get his attention. ‘Put it in the fridge, or it’ll spoil or some shit. I don’t care if you eat or not, but you might.’

‘Thought you were being nice to me or something?’ Ian said, getting up and searching through the bags for this salad stuff Mickey was on about.

‘Gave up. If you don’t want to be friends, then neither do I,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘I know a lost cause when I see one.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Every day in the mirror,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Look, I’m gonna be on the phone for a while. Don’t come in.’

‘Who you gonna call?’

‘Ghostbusters,’ Mickey said sarcastically. ‘Who the fuck do you think I’m gonna call?’

‘Your sister?’

‘Hell no, she’ll be under watch. I’m calling my guys.’

‘Your guys?’

‘Well… They’re not really _my_ guys. They’re kind of… a shared enterprise with my brother-in-law.’

Ian quirked an eyebrow. ‘Does everyone you know have “guys”? What does that even mean?’

‘Figure it out because question time is over,’ Mickey said, turning and shutting the door firmly.

‘Do you know who the “guys” are?’ Ian asked Yev.

Yev looked up from his book briefly and shrugged, before turning his attention back to the pages.

Fat load of use the kid would be. Ian would need to dig into Mickey and his shady-ass business practices by himself.


	9. Winky Face Emojis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Your teacher’s wrong. You don’t be nice to someone unless they’re nice to you.’  
> Yev rolled his eyes and gave up, going back to sit on his bed with the iPad. ‘Maybe that’s why you’ve got no friends.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to the baeta aka jo~

Mickey reappeared from the bedroom a few hours after he had gone in. Ian thought he would’ve relaxed or something, but if anything, Mickey came out more stressed and anxious.

Despite the little voice in Ian’s head telling him to stop caring, Ian found himself watching Mickey pace around the room, flicking a butterfly knife open and closed. ‘You okay?’ he asked.

The question seemed to startle Mickey slightly, and he paused to look over at Ian for any signs he was just taking the piss and didn’t actually care. ‘No,’ Mickey said. ‘Not really.’

‘Why?’

‘Thought you’d decided you didn’t like me. Why should I tell you?’

‘You’re going to need to tell me _some_ things, just so I don’t think you’ve lost it and are holding me hostage or something,’ Ian shut the book he was _still_ reading and turned to face Mickey. ‘So?’

Mickey flipped the knife shut and walked over to sit next to Ian on the couch, so they could speak and not have Yev listen in. ‘Apparently someone overheard that Terry wants to see them in his office tonight.’

‘Okay,’ Ian said slowly. ‘Why are you saying that like it’s a death sentence?’

Mickey went to run his hands through his hair in agitation, and Ian pulled the knife from his fingers just in time. ‘The fuck?’

‘You were about to stab yourself in the head,’ Ian said, shutting the knife and putting it on the floor with his book. Mickey must’ve flipped it open again without realising. ‘Why is the office a bad thing?’

Mickey rolled his eyes, but sighed and spoke quietly anyway. ‘The office… It doesn’t mean good things.’

Ian narrowed his eyes. ‘Look, I don’t want to be here, but I need more to work with than that. I’m not a cop, I wasn’t sent by your fucking father, and I have no reason to turn you in for anything. I don’t give a fuck about all your illegal crap, okay? Just tell me what the fuck is going on.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mickey muttered. He glanced over to Yev, who was apparently watching a movie on his iPad or something. ‘I can’t. It would put you in more danger than you already are.’

‘Why do you care if I’m in danger?’

‘Fuck, are you joking?’ Mickey hissed. ‘I might not have been honest with you about who I was, but I still really fucking like you, Ian. I would be fucking… God, I...’

‘Yes?’ Ian raised his eyebrows expectantly. ‘You, what?’

‘I would fucking hate for anything to happen to you. Especially if it’s because of me, okay?’ Mickey shook his head and stood up. ‘I don’t need to give my father any more reasons to hate you than he already has.’

‘Like?’

Mickey bit his lip and snatched his knife off the floor. ‘Like the fact that you’re gay and you’re dating his gay son.’

‘Your father knows you’re –’

‘You want lunch?’ Mickey interrupted.

‘Lunch?’ Yev asked, tuning into the conversation at the perfect moment. ‘I want lunch!’

‘A’ight, come here then.’ Mickey went over to the bags of food and pulled out a couple of packs of readymade sandwiches. ‘Roast beef or a thing with beansprouts?’

Yev perked up and grinned madly up at his father. ‘Beansprouts!’

Ian snickered at the expression of disgust on Mickey’s face, as he retrieved his salad thing from the fridge and opened it on the counter. ‘How did _you_ make _that_?’ he muttered.

‘Shut up,’ Mickey replied, going around Ian to get the chocolate milk from the fridge. ‘Maybe healthy habits just skip a generation or something.’

‘Interesting theory. True for me, because my parents were both drugged up to their eyeballs most of the time.’

‘Drugs and beansprouts are two very different things,’ Mickey noted, putting a glass of milk in front of Yev. ‘If you’re still hungry after those, then there are oranges as well.’

‘Okay. You can have some milk if you want, Daddy.’

‘Oh, wow. Thanks for the offer,’ Mickey said, sitting at the table and ripping into his box of sandwiches. ‘Not like I bought it or anything.’

Ian smirked into his salad as he ripped open the little package of dressing and dribbled it over the lettuce and various other things inside it. He threw the empty sachet into the bin and took his salad and plastic fork over to sit and eat on the couch.

‘You can sit with us,’ Yev said, patting the spare chair beside him at the table.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey agreed. ‘On Wednesdays, we wear pink.’

Ian blinked at Mickey and went over to sit next to Yev. ‘Did you just quote _Mean Girls_?’

‘My sister made me watch it about nine thousand times,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Salad okay?’

‘Yeah, I mean, you can’t really screw up a salad.’

‘You can, actually.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yeah, no croutons,’ Mickey said softly, as he rearranged his sandwiches to make them slightly less slapdash.

Ian laughed and poked around his salad. ‘I was wondering why there were so many croutons in here. Did you pick the one with the most in it?’

‘Yup.’

‘Jesus.’

 

* * *

 

Mickey got increasingly nervous as the day progressed. He fidgeted and couldn’t stay still, and even though he still wasn’t entirely sure of what was going on – Mickey refused to tell him – Ian had a pretty good idea.

It got to the point where Ian decided to go have another shower, just for something to do so he didn’t have to watch Mickey slowly lose his mind.

‘Are you having another shower?’ Mickey asked.

‘Not much else to do,’ Ian shrugged, retreating to the bathroom.

As soon as the door was shut, Yev appeared at Mickey’s elbow. ‘You should be nice to him.’

‘I’ll be nice to him if he’s nice to me,’ Mickey replied.

‘My teacher says that if you gotta treat people how you wanna be treated and that you gotta use your words.’

‘Your teacher’s wrong. You don’t be nice to someone unless they’re nice to you.’

Yev rolled his eyes and gave up, going back to sit on his bed with the iPad. ‘Maybe that’s why you’ve got no friends.’

Mickey frowned. ‘Gee, thanks, kid. What do you suggest, then?’

Yev shrugged. ‘I dunno. Do you want him to like you?’

‘Yeah, I suppose.’

‘Then maybe you should talk to him.’

‘About?’

‘Me,’ Yev smiled happily. ‘Tell him how cool I am.’

Mickey laughed. ‘You think that telling Ian how cool you are is going to solve all my problems?’

‘Most of them,’ Yev nodded. ‘Or you could talk to him about home.’

‘I can’t do that, bud. It would put him in danger.’

‘I don’t think he cares.’

‘Mm,’ Mickey sighed. ‘I think you’re right.’

‘Daddy?’

‘Yeah, bud?’

‘What’s for dinner?’

 

* * *

 

Dinner turned out to be fried chicken from some little takeaway place that Ian found, after deciding he would go out and find them food, seeing as Mickey was… distracted. He ate hardly any food, then took his beer over to the couch and sat there for most of the night. The only time he got up was to help Yev with the shower and supervise him from the closed toilet to make sure Yev didn’t drown himself or something.

‘Hey, Mickey?’ Ian called softly into the bathroom. ‘I’m gonna call my family and tell them that we’re coming.’

‘Okay. I’m Alex, remember?’ Mickey said popping his head around the door. ‘Tell them we’re coming for a week or something. Impromptu vacation.’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘They won’t buy that. I’m supposed to be working.’

‘Jesus, I don’t fuckin’ know –’ Mickey stopped abruptly after Yev yelled something at him in Ukrainian, and Mickey sighed impatiently. ‘Tell them whatever you want, and we’ll go along with it.’

Ian raised an eyebrow, but nodded and went to go sit in the bedroom to call Fiona.

He had given it a lot of thought, and he decided that his family would kill him if he was in Chicago and didn’t tell them, so it was probably better for his health if he just told them and stayed with them. Other than that fact; he knew that his family would protect him and Mickey, even if they didn’t know it. They knew the drill – if someone comes looking for anyone, you deny everything. There had to be more Gallaghers in Chicago than just Ian and his siblings, and besides, Terry’s guys wouldn’t even _know_ Ian was a Gallagher, would he?

Which reminded Ian that he had to ask Mickey what exactly was the function and purpose of a “guy”. Everyone apparently had “guys”. Ian had no idea what – _who_ , rather – they were.

So Ian found Fiona’s number in his contacts and pressed dial.

The phone rang a couple times before Fiona picked up. _‘Ian! Hey, what’s up?’_

Ian felt his palms get sweaty. Fuck, he hated lying to her. ‘Uh, not much. Just a little heads up that me, Alex, and his son are going to be in Chicago for a few days.’

_‘No shit? Are you lying right now?’_

‘Nope, I swear. Not a joke.’

A high pitched squeal went through the phone. _‘That’s great! Ian, oh my God! We get to meet the boyfriend?’_

‘Yeah,’ Ian laughed and hoped Fiona didn’t catch the nervous tone. ‘You get to meet the boyfriend.’

_‘When are you arriving? We’ll make beds up and everything.’_

‘Oh, uh. We’ll probably be there tomorrow or the day after. I don’t actually know where we are right now.’

_‘Oh. Okay. Keep us updated!’_

‘Yeah, I will, don’t worry.’

_‘Is it okay if you and Alex sleep in the basement? We cleaned it out a while ago and made it into the guest room.’_

‘That’s fine,’ Ian smiled at the excitement in Fiona’s voice, and his heart panged guiltily for bringing his shit to his family’s house.

_‘Will Alex’s kid mind sharing with Liam? I don’t think he’ll want to stay with you and Alex, right?’_ Fiona said suggestively. (Ian could practically hear all the winky face emojis floating through the line.)

‘Um, probably not.’ Hah, like it would matter. Ian and Mickey? Probably never going to happen. (Though a tiny and suppressed part of Ian’s mind retained some hope that Mickey could redeem himself and something could happen between them.)

_‘Wait, aren’t you supposed to be at work?’_

‘I, ah…’ _Shit. Think fast._ ‘The school is shut for a couple weeks. Something about asbestos in the roof or the walls or… something.’

_‘Shit, that sounds nasty.’_

‘Probably is,’ Ian agreed, making another mental note to find out what the fuck asbestos actually was. ‘Hey, I gotta go. I’ll keep you in the loop of where we are.’

_‘Okay, great. See you when you get here! Can’t wait to meet Alex.’_ More winky face emoji vibes.

‘Yeah, I bet. See ya, Fi.’

_‘Bye, Ian!’_

Ian ended the call and flopped backwards onto the bed. ‘Fuck,’ Ian muttered. ‘Fuckity fuck fuck.’

‘Those are bad words,’ Yev said casually, walking past Ian’s doorway, swathed in a towel and looking very pleased with himself.

‘Are they only bad when _I_ say them, or do you tell your dad that, too?’ Ian asked.

‘Nope, he tells me,’ Mickey said, leaning in the doorway, unsure of whether he was allowed in. ‘We’ve got a swear jar.’

‘You’ve got a swear jar?’

‘I’m the only one who swears, so it’s pretty much just… God. It’s like a fuckin’ college fund or some shit,’ Mickey rolled his eyes.

‘College fund? Man, pretty sure Yev’s gonna go, huh?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘If he wants to go, it’s not like I need to save up.’

‘Ah,’ Ian nodded as well as he could while lying down. ‘The Milkovich Bank.’

‘Mm. Something like that,’ Mickey agreed, looking to the side where Yev was out of Ian’s sight. ‘Fuck, Yev! Put your damn pyjamas on.’

‘ _Dad_!’ Yev whined. ‘I don’t wanna!’

‘Well, if you don’t, then you’re gonna get sick again.’

 ‘I hate being sick.’

‘Then put your clothes on,’ Mickey said simply. ‘And then brush your teeth and bed, yeah?’

‘Fine,’ Yev grumped.

Ian smiled to himself and turned his attention back to the ceiling, but continued talking to Mickey. ‘Told my sister the school was closed because there was asbestos in the walls and stuff.’

‘A’ight,’ Mickey replied. ‘So, I guess I’ll just… leave you. I’m gonna put Yev to sleep, then basically just wait up for someone to call me.’

‘Okay. Night, I guess.’

‘Yeah. Night,’ Mickey said. ‘Yev, say goodnight to Ian.’

‘Night, Ian!’ Yev called.

‘Night, Yev,’ Ian said, smiling to himself. ‘Hey, Mickey?’

Mickey paused in shutting Ian’s bedroom door. ‘Yeah?’

‘I hope everything’s okay with your sister,’ Ian said softly, craning his head backwards to look at Mickey upside down. ‘If it was either of mine, I don’t know how I would be so calm.’

It could’ve just been the angle, but Ian swore Mickey’s mouth turned up into a small smile. ‘I’ve had a lot of practice with this,’ he said, closing the door.

Ian sighed and turned his gaze away from the ceiling, a white spot at the edge of his vision from the lightbulb. He got changed, and went to brush his teeth in the bathroom, noting Mickey sitting on the end of Yev’s bed and talking softly. Fuck, it was ridiculous to think that this man was Mikhailo Milkovich. Ian spat and rinsed his mouth, then ducked back into the bedroom, turning off the light and leaving the door cracked slightly. Ian got his phone out, and climbed into bed to play some _2048_ or maybe read some stuff online, and tried to ignore the sounds of Mickey’s pacing around the other room.

 

* * *

 

About an hour after Ian had gone to bed, he vaguely registered the last light in their motel room get turned off. He heard the springs of the couch squeak as Mickey settled into the cushions to sleep, then he swore and the springs bounced again.

_Jesus Christ._ Ian exited the article he was reading about cooking with insects, and opened up his messages instead.

**_Text Sent: Voldemort  
_ ** _u still awake?_

**_Text From: Voldemort  
_ ** _i think u know or u wouldn’t have asked_

**_Text Sent: Voldemort  
_ ** _u can sleep here if u want_

**_Text Sent: Voldemort  
_ ** _no butt stuff tho_

**_Text From: Voldemort  
_ ** _yeah i figured. i was lookin forward to 9in eventually tho. comin now._

The door to Ian’s room creaked open, and Ian didn’t even know where Mickey was until the other side of the bed sunk down. ‘Hey,’ Ian murmured.

‘Hey,’ Mickey replied.

They were quiet for a few moments, until Mickey decided to take Yev’s advice from earlier and talk to Ian. ‘My kid thinks I should be nicer to you.’

‘I agree,’ Ian said, rolling onto his other side and facing Mickey.

‘You should be nicer to me, as well. I’m just trying to keep you from getting killed, man.’

‘I know. I just…’ Ian sighed. ‘You did lie to me.’

‘And now I’m telling you the truth, yeah? I’m not keeping the fuckin’ charade up and pretending to be someone I’m not,’ Mickey muttered. ‘I’m sorry, but I don’t have any regrets, okay? I did what I had to so I could keep me and my kid safe.’

Ian nodded. ‘I know. Sorry I’ve been pissy at you.’

‘It’s fine, I get it,’ Mickey said dismissively. ‘What can I do to make you feel better about all this?’

‘Tell me something true about you.’

Mickey huffed and rolled his eyes. ‘Yev thinks I should talk to you about him.’

‘Why don’t you?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I kind of have, I guess. I didn’t lie about how he came around, or what his mother meant to me.’

‘So you were best friends and there was a turkey baster?’

‘Yeah. I missed out a couple details, but whatever.’

Ian hummed thoughtfully. ‘Don’t be offended by this, but what you told me kind of made Yev sound like a business transaction. Like your wife would only _be_ your wife if she got kids out of it.’

Mickey shook his head and rolled slightly towards Ian. ‘Kind of, but not really because she was going to be my wife anyway. It was more for show, I guess. Like, _“I can’t be gay because I got my wife pregnant!”_ and to throw off suspicion. She wanted kids and I didn’t want to be outed, but I wouldn’t have it any other way, honestly. Yev is everything to me, now.’

‘I can tell,’ Ian smiled. ‘I’m having difficulty reconciling _you_ with the Mikhailo Milkovich I’ve heard about.’

‘People are different with their kids,’ Mickey said softly. ‘I was heading down the same road as my father before Yev and Svetlana came into my life.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah.’

Ian bit his lip and almost reached out to card his fingers through Mickey’s hair, before he remembered he was still supposed to be kind of pissed at him. ‘Tell me.’

‘Tell you what?’

‘Anything. I want to know who Mikhailo Milkovich is. Or was, I guess. You’ve probably changed from who you were, right?’

‘So fuckin’ much,’ Mickey agreed. ‘A’ight, here we go.’

 

* * *

 

_Fifteen years ago._

‘Mickey!’ Mandy wailed, pounding on the door to her brother’s bathroom. ‘Don’t hurt it!’

Mickey laughed and flipped open the tiny knife he had stolen off one of his older brothers. ‘Nope!’ He put the butterfly on his sink and held the knife above the insect’s wings, prepared to slice a section off. He lowered the knife and was about to make the cut when there was a sharp knock on the door. Mickey knew that knock.

‘Mikhailo, you will not harm that butterfly and you will open this door _immediately_ , are we clear?’ his mother’s voice rang out.

Mickey shut the knife and tucked it into the hiding place under his sink. He cupped the butterfly in his hands, and nudged the door’s lock with his elbow.

His mother opened the door and narrowed her eyes at her youngest son. ‘If you open your hands, will that butterfly be intact?’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Mickey said, slowly opening his hands to show his mother.

‘Good. Now, take it out to the garden, and let it fly away. No more catching butterflies to hurt them.’

‘Yes, Mama,’ Mickey nodded, walking past her and Mandy. He stuck his tongue out at his sister, before going down the hall, the staircase, through the entry and to his mother’s library, out the door into the garden.

‘Mickey,’ Mandy called, running after him. ‘Can I hold it? Before you let it go?’

Mickey scowled at her, but opened his hands anyway. ‘Put your finger out and he might climb on.’

Mandy nodded, and put her finger in front of the butterfly. ‘Here, Miss Butterfly,’ she coaxed. ‘Come see Mandy.’

Mickey tapped his foot against the soft grass and waited for the damn butterfly to move onto his sister so he could go back inside and maybe get a snack. ‘Put your finger in front of it!’

‘I am!’ Mandy whined impatiently. ‘I want it!’

‘I know!’ Mickey huffed and poked the butterfly forward onto Mandy’s finger.

Mandy squealed excitedly. ‘It’s on me!’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Cool,’ he said, walking past her and back through his mother’s library.

‘Mickey.’

Mickey stopped and turned to see his mother sitting in her armchair. ‘Yeah?’

‘Don’t catch and kill insects. Not even ants, and especially nothing like a hamster or a cat or something, okay?’ she sat forward on her chair and looked at him seriously. ‘Bad people hurt things for fun, and you will not become a bad person under my watch.’

‘But Dad says that bad people are better.’

‘He’s wrong, Mikhailo,’ his mother said softly. ‘Bad people will have bad things done to them in return, because that’s the way of things. If you are full of goodness, and act with honour and kindness, then the gods will look down upon you with favour. Yes?’

‘Yes, Mama.’

‘Promise me you will be good, and not bad,’ she smiled gently. ‘I know it will be hard, especially for you, but you have to follow your heart, and not try to impress your father.’

‘But I gotta or he’ll be mad,’ Mickey mumbled, looking down to his feet.

‘I know, _moya lyubov_. Be strong and do what is right. I won’t have you turn into your father.’ She held her arms open and Mickey huffed in annoyance as he walked towards her for a hug. She stroked his hair and sighed gently. ‘You will do me proud, one day, Mikhailo. You will do me proud.’

 

* * *

 

‘So… you used to pull wings off butterflies,’ Ian said. ‘Okay, big whoop.’

‘That wasn’t about pulling wings off butterflies,’ Mickey murmured. ‘That was the day that my mother tried to warn me about the direction I was heading.’

‘Meaning?’

Mickey sighed and ran his tongue along his lip in thought. ‘My brothers killed insects as well. They would capture multitudes of bugs and kill them, one after the other, laughing the whole time. They would rip the wings off, or crush them under their feet – whatever. I never knew why my Ma made me stop killing bugs, but not them.’

‘Okay…’ Ian said slowly, interested to hear where this was going.

‘When everything started… I don’t know, turning around, I guess, I realised what she had been going on about.’

‘Right…’

‘My brothers had a very blunt delivery with their deaths for insects,’ Mickey chuckled darkly. ‘I was more about torture. My mother saw that one day that would translate to people, especially the role I was picked for and groomed to fill.’

‘Which was?’ Ian asked, hoping Mickey couldn’t hear his thundering heartbeat, like the galloping of horses across a dry plain.

Mickey snorted. ‘Secret. She was right, though. Nataliya Milkovich is always right about this kinda shit. I stopped killing insects, but it didn’t stop me from moving on to hurting people.’

‘Oh,’ Ian said softly. ‘Did you just… flat out murder people?’

‘Not without a purpose,’ Mickey said after a brief pause. ‘Torture was for fun. Killing was to impress Terry.’

Ian gave a small nod. ‘Are you… I mean, will you…’

‘You want to hear about the first time I ever hurt someone, huh?’ Mickey translated.

‘I don’t know, do I?’

Mickey pursed his lips. This could go one of two ways: first, Ian could decide he would rather leave Mickey and go fend for himself against the legions of men loyal to Terry Milkovich. Or second, Ian would trust Mickey because he had been honest with him. ‘Probably not.’

‘Is it bloody?’

‘Mm.’

Ian let out a deep breath. ‘Okay.’

 

* * *

 

_Nine years ago._

Mickey was running. He had never run so fast or hard in his life, and surprisingly, he wasn’t running from anyone – he was going after his mark.

Sixteen years old, and Mickey had been given the task by Terry to go after someone and show them what happened when you fucked with the Milkoviches. Stupid fucker had tried to get away with not paying his debts for too long, and Terry decided Mickey needed to prove himself a man, and show his allegiance to his own family.

Mickey wasn’t even that nervous. It wasn’t like he’d never made someone bleed before, or pulled a trigger at something with warmth in its veins. Mickey wasn’t scared, and he wouldn’t lock up when the moment came. This guy needed to learn a lesson, and reflect on it in the brief moments before there was a bullet in his brain.

Mickey was being pursued by his brothers, Tony and Jaime, each with guns of their own, just in case Mickey couldn’t follow through. But he would. He had to.

Mickey almost ran into a pole as he rolled his eyes at this stupid fuck’s sense of direction, as they ran down a dead ended alley. This idiot had nowhere to go. Mickey supposed that would make this easier, because there was far less chance he would miss – like picking off fish in a fucking barrel.

‘Oh God,’ the guy groaned, turning around and plastering himself to the brick wall. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’

‘You fucked us over,’ Tony said, coming up to Mickey’s right flank. ‘You gotta pay for it.’

‘Please,’ the guy begged. ‘I can get your money. I just need a couple more days – a week, tops.’

‘You –’ Tony began, but was silenced by Mickey holding up a hand.

Mickey tilted his head and walked forward a couple steps. ‘You don’t have a couple of days. You’ve _had_ a couple of days,’ he shook his head. ‘If you were gonna try and make off with fifteen grand in unpaid debts, then you shoulda fuckin’ run.’

‘I can pay you!’

‘Nah,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Don’t worry about it, we’ll write it off.’

The guy sagged in relief. ‘Really? I’ll pay you back, I swear.’

‘You won’t. You know it, we know it, Terry knows it.’ Mickey bent down and pulled a knife from where he had tucked the sheath into his boot. ‘So you got two options.’

Mickey’s mark eyed up the knife warily and watched as Mickey twisted it in the light from a lamp a few feet back, rays bouncing off the walls around them. ‘Okay.’

‘Mick, what are you doing?’ Tony hissed.

Mickey ignored his brother and continued. ‘One, you get a bullet in your head and we call it even after selling all your shit, maybe your organs on the black market. Who knows.’ Mickey looked up from his blade and smiled benignly at the man in front of him. ‘Or two, you become very well acquainted with my friend here, and every day you’re late paying us back, you lose a finger.’

The guy gulped, and tried in vain to get further away from Mickey and his brothers by pushing himself up onto his tip toes and clawing at the wall behind him. ‘Those my only options?’

Mickey looked to either of his brothers and shrugged again as his eyes landed back on the man. ‘We could spare you and go visit your wife and kids. Ellie and Sam, is it? And your wife is Georgie?’

The man’s eyes widened at the mention of his family. ‘How fucking old are you? You can’t be older than my daughter and she’s seventeen.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Well, I do like my girls older.’

‘So, you’re what, fifteen? Sixteen? And your father’s got you out threatening people?’

‘Gotta do my part and keep up my family’s reputation,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘So what are you thinking? Bullet or knife?’ Mickey walked forward slowly, knowing this guy was unarmed. ‘I’m kinda tempted to go knife and then a bullet.’

‘One finger for each day?’ the guy asked, almost inaudibly as Mickey stopped walking about four feet from him.

‘Each day you’re late, that’s the deal,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Picking option two?’

The guy nodded. ‘Get it over with. I’ll have your money tomorrow.’

‘You better,’ Mickey said. He walked forwards and signalled to his brothers for one to act as lookout, and the other to provide cover, should this guy try to run.

He smiled as he stepped closer to his mark, dangling the knife from his fingers. ‘You left or right handed?’

‘Right. Why?’

Without warning or ceremony, Mickey grabbed the guy’s left hand and cut cleanly through his pinky and ring fingers, severing the tendons and going straight through the bone. ‘Want to make sure you’ll still be able to count out the money,’ Mickey smiled, getting right up in the guy’s face as he wailed and cradled his bleeding hand to his chest.

‘What the fuck!’ the guy yelled.

‘You’re two days late already,’ Mickey said by way of explanation, before tracing the knife across the guy’s chest in criss cross patterns, and slicing his arms in a few places for good measure.

Once Mickey deemed enough blood to have soaked through the guy’s clothing, he kneed him in the balls and pushed him to the ground. ‘It should go without saying that if you tell anyone about this, I will kill your family and make you watch, before I kill you as well. Clear?’

The guy nodded frantically. ‘Clear!’

‘Good.’ Mickey launched a savage kick at the guy’s stomach before he wiped his knife on a clean patch of the guy’s shirt, then turned and jerked his head in the direction of the alley’s exit.

Jaime followed him, meeting up with Tony at the end. ‘Tony, holy shit, you should’ve seen him!’

‘What’d he do?’

‘Fuck man, Dad’ll be so fuckin’ happy,’ Jaime continued. ‘He cut off two of his fingers and cut him up real good.’

Tony narrowed his eyes. ‘He was supposed to stick a bullet in his skull.’

‘Yeah, but chopping off fingers? Fuckin’ _badass_ ,’ Jaime said, shaking his head. ‘Man, you’re gonna be fuckin’ great when you’re older. Fuckin’ ruthless little fucker.’

‘Man, shut the fuck up. Dad knows I go more for knives than guns,’ Mickey said, frowning at the drying blood on his hands.

‘Shoulda killed him, Mick.’

‘Probably. This way we still get our money, and he’s learnt a fuckin’ lesson, yeah?’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Let’s go home, I’m covered in his fuckin’ blood.’

‘Oh yeah, we all know how much you _hate_ being covered in blood.’

‘Fuck off, Jaime.’

 

* * *

 

‘And he was proud,’ Mickey murmured. ‘Told me what a good choice I’d made by doing that.’

‘Did you feel guilty afterwards?’

‘Not really. He paid up the next day and I got to keep the interest.’

‘Which was how much?’ Ian asked.

‘About three grand. Bought my own guns with it,’ Mickey said, unable to stop himself sounding a bit proud. ‘Those silver ones I got out earlier?’

‘Really?’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Can’t believe you’re so calm about this.’

Ian laughed quietly. ‘Yeah, well. I figure you had to do what you had to do, right? And now I just have more questions.’

‘Well, I’m not answering any of them.’

‘I know,’ Ian cleared his throat and put on an affected voice. ‘You’re so wrapped up in layers, onion boy.’

Mickey punched him lightly in the shoulder. ‘Fuckin’ dick.’

Ian grinned briefly, before dropping his smile and saying somewhat awkwardly, ‘I’m sorry for everything you must’ve done.’

‘Yeah, me too. I hope –’ Mickey was cut off by the shrill, unexpectedly loud ringing of his phone from the mattress between them. ‘Tell me,’ he answered immediately.

Ian couldn’t really make out Mickey’s face in the darkness, and he couldn’t hear anything the other person was saying, but Ian guessed it wasn’t good news by the _“fuck”_ Mickey muttered.

‘I’m gonna kill him,’ Mickey growled. ‘Call everyone you can and find out what the fuck’s happening with Mandy.’

The person on the other end must’ve said something that pissed him off, because Mickey sighed impatiently and interrupted them. ‘I literally don’t give a shit. Start up surveillance on Beast. I want to know everything, including when he takes a dump. We clear?’

Mickey rolled out of the bed and started pacing along the length of the wall. ‘Just fucking do it. I’m leaving within the hour and by the time I’m home, I want to know where the fuck my sister is.’ Mickey ended the call and flicked on the light in the bedroom. ‘Get up.’

Ian shrunk back from the light and grumbled as he pulled the blankets over his head. ‘The fuck is going on?’

Mickey ignored the question as he finished speed dressing in his clothes from the previous day. ‘Just get up,’ he repeated pulling the blankets from Ian’s face.

‘Not until you tell me what’s happening,’ Ian said, holding up a hand to block out the direct glare of the light bulb.

Mickey dithered for a moment as he hauled on his boots. ‘I don’t know,’ he said honestly. ‘No one knows. All Terry said was “Get rid of her”.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _moya lyubov_ : my love (if translation is wrong - please correct me omg.)


	10. I'll Watch Over You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘Are you scared?’ Ian murmured. ‘About your dad and everything?’  
> Mickey chewed on his lip and fought his urge to roll towards Ian. ‘I’d be an idiot if I wasn’t.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow haha sorry this took a while? (not really) (a little bit) 
> 
> thank u to jo for beta-ing and pretty much just putting up with me in general tbh.

_Earlier that night._

Mandy felt like she hadn’t slept since seeing her father on Thursday night. She and Emilio has been deciding what the fuck they were going to do and tell Terry tonight, and had come to the agreement that they would tell him nothing. They knew Mickey would do the same if the situation was reversed, and they weren’t about to stab him in the back and sign his death certificate. No matter the cost, they would protect Mickey and Yev, and hope like hell he wouldn’t get killed anyway.

‘What do you think Terry will do?’ Mandy asked. ‘If it was you in his place, what would _you_ do?’

Emilio shrugged on his suit jacket and checked his dark hair was still in place in the mirror above the sink in their ensuite. ‘If it was me, I would pull tooth and nail to get information out of us.’

Mandy huffed and zipped up the side of her dress. ‘Torture was more Mickey’s style.’

‘I know. Terry will probably just kill us,’ he said softly, stepping in front of Mandy and smiling down at her. ‘We’re pretty much fucked, babe.’

‘Yeah, but we knew that as soon as we told Mick we’d help him.’

‘Five years more than we thought we’d have,’ Emilio pointed out, taking off his rings and the thin chain he usually wore. ‘He can’t kill us, Mandy. It would start a war between our families.’

Mandy shook her head slowly. ‘Only if your family finds out.’

‘How the fuck do you think he’d be able to hide that from them?’

‘It’s Terry, he’ll tell them we went on an unplanned vacation and forgot to tell anyone or something,’ Mandy shrugged. ‘Jesus, why are we even talking about this?’

‘We’re being realistic.’

‘Being realistic sucks ass,’ Mandy muttered, leaning into Emilio. ‘You know, I really used to dislike you, but I think I would be a bit sad if you died now.’

‘Wow, thanks,’ Emilio rolled his eyes and pulled Mandy closer. ‘I didn’t like you either, honestly. Thought you were a sarcastic and bitchy teenage girl when we got married.’

‘To be fair,’ Mandy smiled. ‘I kinda still am.’

‘Not really. You’ve matured and warmed up to me.’

‘We did get married. It was gonna happen sooner or later.’

‘Well,’ Emilio said, kissing Mandy’s hair and laughing when she swatted him away. ‘I’m glad it happened sooner.’

‘Me too.’ Mandy sighed and stepped back as their doorbell was rung. ‘If shit goes down, I just wanna say I’m sorry for dragging you into this.’

‘It’s okay. It’s what you do when you love someone.’

‘What, threaten their life?’

‘No, you go through Hell with them.’

‘Hmm,’ Mandy pulled on a coat as they walked towards their front door. ‘We’re not _going_ through Hell, we’re stopping there for a fucking sightseeing tour.’

‘Let’s hope we make it out to tell the tale, huh?’ Emilio asked, opening the door and ushering Mandy out.

Mandy climbed into the back of the car Terry had sent – one of his car thieves was driving, so this must’ve been on the way to a chop shop – and waited for Emilio to join her before shooting him a look that said _“We’re not going to make it out”_.

Emilio looked out the window and started analysing their route, squeezing Mandy’s hand back as hard as she was squeezing his. ‘We’re going to the office,’ he said quietly, barely loud enough for Mandy to hear.

‘Shit,’ she replied at the same volume. ‘I told you, didn’t I?’

Emilio turned back to his wife. ‘We’re fucking screwed.’

Mandy held back a bitter laugh and looked down to their hands. It was weird, now that she and Emilio were just starting to build up their reputation as an immovable object, that they would be met with an unstoppable force. Seemed that the age old question of what would happen if the two collided finally had an answer – the force would blow the object away.

In their case, possibly literally.

They were quiet as they drove towards the office, and with every passing foot of tarmac, it felt like their breathing and heartbeats were getting louder and louder. By the time they finally arrived outside the large, unkempt warehouse, Mandy and Emilio were gripping each other hard enough to cut off the blood supply, and every tiny noise was like a crack of thunder.

The car thief-turned-driver opened the door for them, and Emilio helped Mandy out of the car. She had worn ankle boots with small, chunky heels, so it wasn’t like she would ordinarily need his help, but they were both feeling incredibly unsteady about the entire situation, to say the least.

One of Terry’s men met them at a small side door, and led the way through boxes and plastic covered chairs (supplies for a party hire business that Mandy’s mother was head of – she insisted on keeping _something_ legal going at all times, just in case everything turned to shit) and towards the back room where Terry had his office set up.

‘In case anything happens,’ Emilio murmured. ‘You know I love you, right? Always will.’

‘I know,’ Mandy replied, fighting to keep her voice level. ‘I love you too.’

‘If they’re planning anything, they’ll go for me first. You need to stay safe and do whatever you gotta to stay alive, you hear?’ Emilio said. ‘You get home, and you tell my family, and they’ll help you.’

‘I won’t leave you here to die,’ Mandy said fiercely. ‘I won’t abandon you.’

‘Yes, you will. You won’t have much of a choice, because you know Terry and his men don’t miss,’ Emilio let out a deep breath. ‘There won’t be anything here you need to take from me. I left my rings and everything at home. All I’ll be is dead weight, Mandy.’

‘Emilio, I won’t –’

‘Mandy,’ Emilio interrupted softly. ‘I know. You have to. Forget all that shit about loyalty that we’ve both had drummed into us, okay? Get yourself safe. I’ll watch over you.’

Mandy shook her head and bit her lip to anchor herself to the pain, instead of giving in to the burn in her eyes. She couldn’t believe that they were having this conversation right now, because Terry wouldn’t dare.

Right?

She didn’t have time to consider anything else, because then they were in the entry way to Terry’s office and being asked to wait outside while the huge, hulking guy who had led them through the maze of the warehouse went and announced their arrival to Terry.

‘You can come in,’ the guy said (Mandy vaguely recalled having met him before and him being referred to as Doe Eyes or something) and swept his arm in a grand gesture.

‘Emilio and Mandy,’ Terry said, standing from behind his desk and straightening his jacket as he walked around. ‘What a pleasant surprise.’

_Full of bullshit,_ Mandy thought with utter contempt as Terry walked past them towards a small wooden cabinet at one side of the room to pour himself a drink.

‘Thirsty?’ Terry asked, holding the bottle towards them. ‘Very fine whiskey.’

‘We’re fine, thank you,’ Emilio said tightly.

‘Shame,’ Terry refilled his cup and went back to the faux-leather chair behind his desk. ‘You’d like it, I think.’

Mandy and Emilio stayed quiet, and Mandy couldn’t help but notice the way her husband changed the weight between his feet, stepping partially in front of her in the process.

Terry smirked at the movement, but stayed quiet. ‘So. What we came here to discuss.’

‘We don’t know where Mickey is,’ Emilio said smoothly. ‘We thought he died when his car exploded, along with his wife and child.’

‘Don’t lie to me,’ Terry said calmly, setting his glass down and folding his hands together on top of his desk. ‘I know you know everything. You know how he got away with it, you know where he went, you know everything.’

‘We know nothing, honest to God,’ Mandy said, finding strength from Emilio beside her. ‘Mickey hasn’t contacted us or anyone we know. We have no idea where he is.’

‘See, I don’t believe you. That boy told you _everything_ , and now you’re going to tell _me_ everything.’

‘Why do you want him dead so bad?’

‘That little fucking shit ran out on family and everything we fucking built. You don’t do that without repercussions. I am going to make an example of him,’ Terry narrowed his eyes. ‘And I’ll do the same to you two if you don’t start talking.’

‘We can’t talk about things we don’t know anything of,’ Emilio said. ‘I’m sorry, but we can’t help you.’

Terry sighed. ‘That’s unfortunate. Restrain her,’ he nodded at Mandy as he rose from behind the table.

Two of Terry’s men surged forward to grab Mandy and pull her away from her husband. ‘Emilio!’ she yelled, struggling against the hold of the two men. ‘Run!’

Emilio looked towards the exit and briefly considered making a run for it, but then two more men stepped in front of the exit, blocking him in. ‘Mandy,’ he said, keeping his eyes on Terry. ‘You know what we talked about.’

Terry nodded towards two more men, who gripped Emilio’s arms tightly, then kicked the back of his knees to push him into a kneeling position in front of Terry. ‘You got anything you want to tell me?’ Terry asked. ‘You can both go and we’ll all pretend this never happened.’

Emilio narrowed his eyes and spat at Terry. ‘Fuck you.’

‘In that case,’ Terry shrugged, pulling a gun from somewhere and twisting it in his hands. ‘You’re of no use to me.’

‘Emilio!’ Mandy screeched, kicking one of the guys holding her in the balls and momentarily escaping his grasp. ‘Emilio!’

‘Mandy,’ Emilio said, turning towards her, apologies written across his expression. ‘I love –’

It felt like everything was moving in slow motion for a few moments after Terry fired his gun. Mandy saw the way that the bullet entered and exited behind Emilio’s eyes, she saw the pattern the droplets of blood and brain matter made in the air before they fell, and worst of all – she saw the split second of pain cross her husband’s eyes before they glassed over and went blank.

Mandy didn’t hear the dull thud his body made as it was released and slumped to the floor. As she broke out of the slow motion, Mandy was aware of someone screaming, and then she realised it was her.

Terry said something, then one of the guy’s punched her in the face. Her father must’ve commanded one of them to silence her. Nothing more annoying than the sound of a grieving widow.

Mandy felt something wet and warm touch her lip, and her tongue instinctively darted out to taste it – blood, of course. Whoever just hit her had maybe broken her nose, but Mandy wasn’t sure of that, because she couldn’t move her arms from where they were being held down.

_Do whatever you gotta to stay alive, you hear?_ Emilio’s words echoed in Mandy’s head, and she stopped struggling against the hold she was in, instead letting herself take a moment to cry and take her husband’s advice, because, as usual, he had been right about the situation they had found themselves in.

Mandy was determined not to fight against the men gripping her, and that alone went against everything she had ever been taught. Mandy’s mother had always told her to keep fighting, because if you don’t then you might as well be dead. Mandy was as good as, anyway, but she couldn’t listen to both her mother and her husband.

Mandy’s decision to follow Emilio’s advice went out the window as soon as Terry looked up from Emilio’s body to face his daughter, and was incredibly blasé about the fact that not five seconds earlier, he had just killed his son-in-law. ‘Get rid of her,’ Terry said, nodding towards the door behind where Mandy and her captors were.

‘Dad, please!’ Mandy yelled, struggling against the two men. ‘Terry!’

Terry just shook his head and smiled. The cruel gleam in his eyes was the last thing Mandy saw before someone forced a cloth onto her face and she blacked out.

 

* * *

 

Yev grumbled when Mickey scooped him out of bed and carried him downstairs and into the car. His pillow was arranged under his head, and his blanket was draped over him after the seatbelt was clicked into place.

Ian and Mickey worked quickly to empty the motel room of their things, including the food Mickey had bought earlier.

‘Mickey,’ Ian hissed, as the other man climbed into the driver’s seat. ‘The key? And I don’t think you paid for tonight, either.’

‘Fuck,’ Mickey muttered. He pulled a few notes from in his wallet, and darted into the main office, leaving the money and key on the other side of the desk. He ran back to the car and raised his eyebrows at Ian. ‘Anything else?’

‘Uh, well…’ Ian scratched the back of his neck. ‘Are you okay to drive?’

Mickey nodded. ‘Driven the same route after worse.’

‘When your wife died?’

‘You know nothing about my wife and stop bringing her up, fuck,’ Mickey said, turning the key in the ignition of the car and leaving the car park to get back onto the main road and highway. ‘I’m not going to tell you anything and you should leave it alone.’

‘I think you need to talk about it,’ Ian said softly. ‘It’s clearly eating at you.’

‘Gallagher, please just shut the fuck up.’

‘Mickey –’

‘No.’

Ian sighed and rolled his eyes. ‘Fine. Is it okay if I sleep? We’re still going to Chicago, right?’

‘Yes and yes. Anything to get you off my back about all this shit.’

‘Jesus,’ Ian muttered. He pulled his hoodie up and turned slightly to get comfy in his chair. ‘Wake me up if you wanna swap driving duties,’ he murmured, drifting towards sleep.

‘Like I’ll be able to sleep,’ Mickey snorted. ‘Feel like I’ve just had ten coffees.’

‘That’s reassuring,’ Ian yawned. ‘Night.’

‘Yeah, night,’ Mickey replied, training his eyes on the road and never letting them stray.

Mickey drove in silence for hours, probably going over the speed limit but giving less than zero shits about it, because he needed to get to Chicago as soon as he could. They were probably still a full day’s drive away, and that didn’t help calm Mickey’s nerves when it came to what was going on with Mandy. No one had called him yet with any definite knowledge of what had happened to her, but Mickey had an idea.

He just fucking hoped he was wrong.

 

* * *

 

When Ian woke up around six thirty, Mickey was pulling into the parking lot of a small 24 hour diner. Ian had no idea where they were, and he doubted Mickey did either.

‘How’d you sleep?’ Mickey asked quietly, noting Ian stretching as much as he could in the confines of the car.

‘Not bad,’ Ian said, cracking his neck. ‘Did you drive the whole night?’

‘Told you I wasn’t gonna sleep.’

‘Yeah,’ Ian muttered. ‘Gonna wake Yev?’

‘Nah, he’ll wake up soon anyway. Never sleeps past seven.’

Ian nodded and got out of the car to get his pills from his bag, which was… somewhere beside Yev. He found it in the foot well behind Mickey’s chair, and grabbed his pills out. He swallowed them dry, then got back in the car, unsure of what he should do. ‘Should I… wait for you, or something?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘If you want. Or you could go in and start ordering coffee.’

Ian shook his head. ‘Nah, I’m okay to wait.’

Mickey nodded, and not three minutes later, Yev’s tiny voice floated through the car.

‘Daddy?’

‘Hey, bud,’ Mickey said, turning around and smiling at his son. ‘How you doing?’

‘I’m okay. Where are we?’

‘Not sure,’ Mickey said honestly. ‘You want some breakfast?’

Yev’s eyes flicked out the window, then back to his father. ‘Are there pancakes?’

‘Should we go find out?’

Yev nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘You needa pee?’ Mickey asked.

Yev nodded again. ‘Yep.’

‘Okay, we’ll deal with that first, then get breakfast. That good with you?’

‘Yep.’

‘Ian?’

Ian looked up from his phone (no wifi hotspots – great) and nodded as well. ‘Yeah, that’s fine.’

‘Let’s get this show on the road then.’

 

* * *

 

‘More syrup?’ the waitress asked, smiling in what she probably hoped was a seductive manner, but was somewhat ruined by the smacking of her gum.

‘Uh… I’m good,’ Ian offered, watching the way the waitress was eyeing Mickey up and down.

‘And you, sir?’ she bit her lip and looked over Mickey’s half eaten pancake stack. ‘They can get a little dry.’

Mickey seemed completely oblivious to whatever the waitress was trying to achieve, and just shook his head. ‘We’re fine.’

‘Mmkay,’ she shrugged. ‘Let me know if you need anything,’ she said, turning and heading to the kitchens, swaying more than was probably necessary.

‘You know she’s probably gonna try to hook up with you behind the dumpster out back, right?’ Ian said quietly, stirring his coffee and taking a small sip.

‘Huh?’ Mickey asked, looking up from his phone (because apparently _he_ had found wifi).

‘The waitress? I think she’s trying to get in your pants.’

‘She couldn’t fit in Daddy’s pants with him in them,’ Yev said, stabbing at his own stack of mini pancakes.

‘Yeah, Ian,’ Mickey said, holding back a smile. ‘She couldn’t fit with me still in them.’

‘You’re in your own pants?’ Ian shook his head. ‘That’s the kinda stuff I don’t really need to know.’

‘Hey, gotta make do if _you_ don’t want in them.’

‘Never said that, did I?’

‘Mm, but you’ve pretty heavily implied you’re not interested now that you know who I am,’ Mickey raised an eyebrow and leaned across the table to get one of the packs of sugar from beside Ian. ‘Tell me I’m wrong.’

Ian narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully on some blueberry pancake. Mickey was half right. Mostly right. Ian was pretty put off by the fact that Mickey was a MIlkovich, but at the same time… he really didn’t care. Ian had been wanting to fuck Mickey pretty much from the day they met, and it killed him a little that he hadn’t jumped earlier. The signals he was giving, and the allusions he was apparently making were just kneejerk reactions caused by his survival instincts.

He really hoped they would calm the fuck down, and his brain would think about the bigger picture here – namely, the bigger picture that showed Mickey was actually a good guy (it seemed) and that he wasn’t making much of an effort to hide how much he cared and still wanted Ian.

As all this shit ran through Ian’s head, Mickey nodded and sat back down. ‘See? You’ve friendzoned me. Not even friendzoned. What the fuck am I in? Tolerated-zone? Tolerated-only-because-I’m-keeping-you-alive-zone? Jesus fucking Christ.’

‘I haven’t friendzoned you, and that’s not a thing,’ Ian replied. ‘The “friendzone” is a stupid idea made up by idiot men who think the world owes them something for being decent human beings.’

‘Well, excuse the fuck outta me,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Point being, you don’t wanna…’ Mickey glanced across to Yev and frowned. ‘Don’t wanna…’

‘Share pants?’ Ian asked in amusement.

‘Yeah.’

‘Yeah, well. You sorta jumped to that conclusion by yourself, Mickey.’

‘Yeah, no, I didn’t.’

‘You did.’

‘Did not,’ Mickey huffed. ‘The fuck are we even arguing about this for? We ain’t dating, this shit shouldn’t matter.’

_Except it does._ ‘Whatever.’

‘You jealous of some waitress?’

_Yes._ ‘Fuck off.’

Mickey grinned. ‘Gotcha.’

‘Never really lost me, dumbass,’ Ian muttered. ‘I’m just saying, you might wanna shut her down before she starts grinding on you or something.’

‘Is that a thing girls do?’

‘You tell me. You were married to one.’

‘We were just friends,’ Mickey shrugged and turned his attention back to his phone.

Ian gave a loud sigh and went back to eating his pancakes. He was silent for a few minutes, and probably would’ve stayed that way, but Yev was maintaining eye contact with Ian while he ate his own pancakes. It was actually kind of terrifying, and when Ian felt awkward, he talked. ‘So is there like a plan or something that we’re going with?’

Mickey looked up from his screen. ‘Huh?’

‘For… I don’t even know what the fuck we’re doing, but is there a plan?’

‘Find my sister then get the fuck out of Chicago before my Dad knows I’m there.’

‘Oh. Great. Sounds like you’ve really given some thought to this.’

Mickey shrugged and put his phone back on the table, screen down. ‘The plan will become a plan once I know what the hell is going on.’

‘Wow,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes. ‘I’m really getting a distinct feeling of _leadership_ from you.’

‘Fuck off, it’s been a while since I did this shit.’

‘What, co-ordinated a possible rescue mission?’

‘Something like that,’ Mickey muttered. ‘We all done here? Should get back on the road.’

‘Yeah, I’m done,’ Ian nodded, setting his cutlery back on his plate and draining his mug of coffee.

‘Good,’ Mickey said, flagging the waitress over. ‘Yev, done?’

‘Yev done,’ the boy confirmed.

‘How can I help you?’ the waitress asked, coming over to their table.

‘Cheque?’ Mickey said, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

‘Okay, sure. I’ll go –’

‘This cover it?’ Mickey asked, holding out a fifty to her.

‘Uh, yeah, that covers it.’

‘Great, keep the change,’ Mickey said, sliding from his seat and standing in front of her to wait for Yev.

‘Thanks,’ the waitress smiled. ‘Are you leaving?’

‘Uh… Yes?’

The waitress bit her lip and tucked the note into her apron. ‘You want something for the road?’

Ian seemed to catch on before Mickey, and rolled his eyes. ‘No thanks, me and my boyfriend are fine.’

The waitress blinked and looked between Ian and Mickey. ‘Oh.’

Ian gave her a friendly smile and waved half-heartedly at her as he pushed Mickey and Yev from the diner. ‘Told you she was trying to get in your pants,’ he muttered, elbowing Mickey in the ribs.

‘You didn’t need to _defend_ me, Gallagher.’

‘I don’t like people trying to take what’s mine.’

‘Am I yours?’ Mickey asked in amusement, unlocking his car and helping Yev do up his seatbelt.

_Yes._ ‘Gotta act like you are while we’re staying at my house,’ Ian shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalantly as possible. ‘Doesn’t hurt to practice my acting.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Whatever. Get in the damn car.’

‘You know where you’re going?’

‘Got GPS for that.’

‘Of course.’

They didn’t speak again until they came to stop at a motel for the night.

 

* * *

 

‘Hey, Mickey?’ Ian said softly, coming out of the tiny, dingy bathroom that joined onto the main room.

‘Yeah?’ Mickey replied from his spot on the couch.

‘You don’t have to sleep on the couch if you don’t want,’ Ian cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘I mean, we’ve sort of got past the awkward “I hate you for this” stage, right?’

‘Have we?’

‘Well… I have. I get it, kinda. This isn’t your fault and you shouldn’t be punishing yourself by sleeping on a couch.’

‘I’m not punishing myself,’ Mickey said defensively. ‘What if I just don’t want to share your bed?’

Ian rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? You’re gonna have to at my house. Me and “Alex” are dating, right? Gotta keep up appearances.’ Ian walked across to the queen sized bed behind the wooden partition and sighed dramatically as he got into the bed. ‘I mean, you can sleep in there if you want, but you totally know you want to _share my bed_.’

‘Fuck off, Gallagher,’ Mickey growled, turning angrily to face the back of the couch.

‘Suit yourself,’ Ian flicked off the light beside his bed and wiggled around under the sheets for a few moments to get comfy. ‘Night, then.’

‘Yeah, whatever.’ Mickey was quiet for a few minutes, and waited until he thought there was a chance Ian was asleep before he decided to talk. ‘Ian?’

Of course, he wasn’t. ‘Yeah?’ Ian replied softly.

‘I’m sorry for dragging you into this,’ Mickey muttered. ‘You know I didn’t want to do this, right?’

Ian sighed. ‘I know. I don’t blame you, Mick.’

Mickey smiled into the darkness at the nickname. ‘’Kay.’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to sleep in this bed? We can make a wall of pillows if you want, because I don’t think that couch is comfortable.’

‘Nah, it’s okay,’ Mickey said. He turned onto his back and nearly rolled off the couch, catching himself at the last minute. ‘Fuck,’ he muttered. Mickey debated internally with himself for a few moments, before he got up and stalked over to Ian’s bed, throwing himself down on the other side of the mattress, as far from the other man as he could get, because he still wasn’t sure about how things were between them.

‘Are you scared?’ Ian murmured. ‘About your dad and everything?’

Mickey chewed on his lip and fought his urge to roll towards Ian. ‘I’d be an idiot if I wasn’t.’

‘What do you think happened to your sister? You’ve got a theory, right?’

‘He’s done one of three things with her,’ Mickey said, giving in and facing Ian. (He told himself it was purely so Yev didn’t overhear or get woken up, but Mickey was lying to himself. He kinda wanted Ian to comfort him and say everything would be okay. That was a new feeling, because Mickey Milkovich does not need to be _comforted_.) ‘He’s either killed her, or let her go, which is very unlikely.’

‘And the third option?’

‘We’re not talking about the third option.’

‘That bad?’

Mickey gave a small nod, and looked down to where he was twisting his fingers into the sheets. ‘Don’t wanna jinx it.’

Ian’s limbs twitched strangely and he let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Mickey?’

‘Mm?’

Ian was quiet for a few moments. ‘Never mind. Night.’

‘Right,’ Mickey muttered. He slid his eyes shut, and was thankful that he was asleep within minutes.

 

* * *

 

The closer Ian, Mickey, and Yev got to Chicago, the more nervous Ian could feel his not-quite-but-possibly-still-boyfriend getting. Not that Mickey appeared to be getting nervous _anyway_ , but he was tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, and making Ian check his phone every few minutes, so Ian thought that must’ve counted for something.

By the time they reached the outskirts of Chicago, Mickey was humming and letting out huge huffs every now and then to rid himself of energy.

‘Hey, Yev?’ Ian said, turning around to face the little boy, who was staring warily out the window.

‘Yep?’ Yev asked, looking back to Ian.

‘When we get to my house, you have to remember that your dad’s name –’

‘Is Alex Lysenko,’ Yev nodded. ‘I know.’

Mickey smirked proudly in the driver’s seat, and murmured, ‘He’s not stupid.’

‘Never said he was,’ Ian replied. He shook his head and pulled out his phone to quickly text Fiona to let her know they would be arriving soon, and got one back just as fast.

 

**_Text From: Fiona_ **

_ooohhh!!! we're excited!!! everything is ready. including ur bed ;) ;) ;)_

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian muttered. ‘We’re gonna have to act all couple-y at my house.’

‘So?’ Mickey asked.

‘That might include like… kissing and stuff.’

Mickey turned and gave him an incredulous look. ‘What are you getting at, Gallagher?’

‘It might be kinda awkward?’ Ian said lamely.

‘You like Alex Lysenko, right? I’ll be your Alex Lysenko. Don’t get your panties in a bunch.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘We don’t have a fucking choice,’ Mickey said, his voice strained as he tried not to yell at how ridiculous Ian was being. ‘It’s only awkward if you make it awkward, Gallagher. I haven’t fuckin’ changed and I’m not about to. Get the fuck over yourself and do what needs to be done, Jesus.’

Ian cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. ‘Okay.’


	11. If You Wanna Get Technical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘But you like cucumber, right?’  
> ‘Huh?’  
> ‘You and Ian were talking about cucumbers,’ Yev said, blinking at Mickey like he was an idiot for not remembering the conversation. ‘You said big –’  
> ‘Oh, wow, okay,’ Mickey interrupted, slamming a hand over Yev’s mouth and fighting to keep a blush off his cheeks. ‘Uh, so, where is this one sleeping?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm back yiPPEE. okay, quick note: i have rejoined the legions of the employed. it probably won't affect my writing too much bc i have late shifts (thank GOD) so my usual writing time is untouched/unaffected. but y'know, just in case it takes a while to update, it's probably a mixture of procrastination and tiredness, instead of just procrastination.
> 
> huge thank you to jo for being my beautiful beta as usual, and also just for putting up with me and my whining on a daily basis.

‘This it?’ Mickey asked, as he pulled the Jeep over in front of the Gallagher house.

‘Well, yeah. I directed you to this one,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes and unclicking his seatbelt.

‘Who pissed in your Cheerios?’ Mickey muttered.

Ian shot him a look and narrowed his eyes. ‘Don’t get snarky.’

‘Hey, you started it,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘A’ight, Yev. What’s my name?’

‘Alex!’ Yev chirped, holding Spike close to his chest as he looked out the window at the house.

‘Yep. Be nice to Ian’s family.’

‘ _I_ will! I _like_ making friends.’

Mickey rolled his eyes, taking that as another shot to his record of positive social exchanges. Yev seemed to think he was completely incapable of human interaction, and he was probably right, in all honesty, but Mickey as going to try damn hard to make a good impression on Ian’s family. ‘Ian?’

‘Mm?’ Ian asked, paused halfway to opening his door. ‘What?’

‘Any words of advice?’

‘For what? Lying to my family?’

‘Well… Yeah. Unless you want me to go in all guns blazing and announce that Mickey Milkovich is here for a holiday, oh and watch the doors and windows because you might all get blown to shreds.’ Mickey raised his eyebrows pointedly at Ian as he waited for a reply. ‘Your decision.’

Ian let out a long suffering sigh. ‘If Lip’s around, bullshit as little as you can, because he sees right through it. Fiona needs to be charmed, and even if she seems like she trusts you, she’ll be wary because I’m her little brother. Carl you can woo with talks about guns, but please don’t get too… carried away.’

‘What, like telling him all the shit I’ve done?’

‘Yeah, that’s exactly the shit you need to avoid.’

‘Right. Anything else?’

Ian chewed his lip for a few moments as he thought. ‘Liam’s quiet so he’s not a problem, and Debbie’s kinda like a sniffer dog. She sees everything.’

‘Isn’t she like… the nice one?’

Ian shrugged. ‘They’re all nice to me.’

‘Right,’ Mickey frowned. ‘Your sister’s boyfriend?’

Ian shook his head. ‘He’s a shady guy. Wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.’

‘So we’ll get along great,’ Mickey nodded. ‘Okay, let’s do this.’

‘Okay, _Alex_.’

‘Don’t get shitty at me,’ Mickey said, narrowing his eyes. ‘We’re supposed to be happily dating.’

‘Technically, me and Alex still are dating,’ Ian muttered, opening his door and waiting for Mickey to get out of the car as well.

‘Great!’ Mickey said, coming around to help Yev out. ‘Shouldn’t be a problem, then.’

‘Dad?’ Yev interrupted.

‘Yeah?’

‘Your fingers.’

Mickey frowned and looked at his hands, seeing that Yev had reminded him once again of his knuckle tattoos. ‘Ah, shit,’ he murmured. ‘Hold that thought, Ian.’

‘What?’

‘Gotta cover up a few things.’

‘Huh?’ Ian asked.

‘This is Milkovich country, man. My main fuckin’ identifier is my knuckle tats.’

‘Yeah, that and your charm,’ Ian said, rolling his eyes and sighing impatiently as Mickey speedily applied concealer to his hands. ‘Done yet?’

‘Done,’ Mickey nodded.

‘Good,’ Ian replied, leading them up to the house and knocking on the door. It looked like it had been repainted, and Ian idly wondered if Fiona had mentioned that on Skype and he just hadn’t been paying attention.

The door flew open, and there stood Fiona. ‘Ian!’ she grinned, throwing her arms around his neck. ‘Hi!’

‘Hey, Fi,’ Ian replied, giving her an easy smile. ‘This is Alex, and his son, Yev.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ Fiona said, standing back from the door. ‘Come in, you must be tired.’

‘Nah, had a lot of coffee recently,’ Mickey joked. ‘Thanks for letting us stay with you.’

‘It’s no problem,’ Fiona said, leading them through the house and towards the kitchen. ‘Any special friend of Ian’s is a friend of ours, just without the special bits.’

Ian laughed as they entered the kitchen, and was almost tackled by two teenagers rushing towards him. ‘Jesus, guys. It’s like I’ve been away for years.’

‘Feels like it,’ the redheaded girl – Mickey guessed this was Debbie – said. ‘You never call.’

‘Actually, I call a lot,’ Ian said, patting her on the shoulder. ‘You’re just never here.’

‘Then you should call _me_ ,’ Debbie said impatiently. ‘Who else am I going to talk about boys with?’

‘Me?’ Fiona suggested.

Debbie rolled her eyes. ‘You haven’t really got the best radar for decent guys, Fi.’

‘Wow, okay, I’m sitting right here,’ someone else said from the table – probably the shady-ass boyfriend Ian kept mentioning. He stood up from his seat and came around from behind Debbie. ‘Hey, Ian.’

‘Jimmy. Or Steve. What are we calling you now?’ Ian asked, and Mickey had never heard such a cool tone be used at anyone other than himself.

‘Jimmy is fine,’ he said, sounding like they’d had this conversation about nine times too many. ‘And you must be –’ he cut off his sentence and tilted his head slightly at Mickey.

_Oh shit._ ‘Alex,’ Mickey said, letting a hint of danger into his tone. ‘My name is Alex.’

Jimmy nodded slowly. ‘Alex. Right. Need any help with your bags?’

‘That would be great,’ Mickey said, heading back to his car and leaving Yev with Ian to be introduced.

Once at the car, Jimmy started speaking in a low voice. ‘What the fuck are you doing here, Mickey? Thought you were dead.’

Mickey shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, I’m not. You didn’t get told because I know you’d squeal, _Lishman_.’

‘Hey,’ Jimmy held his hands up quickly, before diving back in to grab a couple of bags. ‘I’m still loyal to you.’

‘Uh huh. Who you working for right now?’ Mickey asked, shutting the door as he swung the last of the bags over his arm. ‘My father? One of my brothers?’

‘Terry,’ Jimmy muttered. ‘Does Ian know?’

‘Why the fuck do you think I’m here?’

‘Doesn’t answer my question.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and followed Jimmy around the side of the house to the basement’s back door. ‘Yes, Ian knows. Terry threatened him as well, so I wasn’t about to leave him behind.’

‘Shit, so he really knows you’re… y’know. Not dead?’

‘Apparently,’ Mickey said, waiting as Jimmy unlocked the door. ‘You know what happened to Mandy?’

‘Wouldn’t say that,’ Jimmy murmured. ‘I drove her and Emilio to the office, then left straight away to dump the car at one of Terry’s shops.’

‘Have you heard anything?’ Mickey asked, as they entered the basement. It was surprisingly cosy. The walls had been plastered up, and the floor had wooden boards. There was a decently sized bed pushed up against a wall, a chest of drawers and a chair, and no room for anything else.

‘About Mandy and Emilio?’

‘No, about the fuckin’ weather. _Yes_ , Mandy and Emilio.’

Jimmy was quiet for a few moments as he dumped the bags he was carrying onto the bed. ‘Neither of them walked out.’

‘Is –’

‘Mandy’s not dead,’ Jimmy mumbled. ‘That’s all I know.’

‘And Emilio?’

‘Very much the opposite.’

Mickey let out a deep sigh. ‘Fuck.’

‘Yeah.’

‘A’ight,’ Mickey scratched his head. ‘Should go without saying that if you tell your girlfriend or my father or _anyone_ else, I’ll put your head on a spike.’

Jimmy gave him a small salute. ‘Got it.’

‘And you’re gonna dig for me, yeah?’

‘Got no choice, right? Still on your side, Mick.’

‘Don’t call me that.’

‘Right, yeah. Alex?’

‘Alex,’ Mickey nodded. ‘We should probably get back into the house.’

‘Yeah, of course,’ Jimmy said awkwardly, sidestepping around Mickey like he might pull a knife on him at any second. He went over to a small set of stairs in a corner of the room and opened the door at the top – right into the Gallagher’s kitchen.

‘Oh, shit,’ Mickey commented. ‘Good for midnight snacks.’

Ian gave Mickey what was as close to a genuine smile as he had seen in weeks, and said, ‘What happened to encouraging healthy eating in Yev?’

‘He doesn’t need my encouragement. He’s giving _me_ encouragement.’

‘But it’s not working,’ Yev piped up from beside Ian.

‘Yeah, because anything green shouldn’t be eaten,’ Mickey replied, climbing the stairs from the basement into the kitchen and coming over to ruffle Yev’s hair. ‘It’s like a “Don’t eat me, I’m gross!” warning.’

‘But you like cucumber, right?’

‘Huh?’

‘You and Ian were talking about cucumbers,’ Yev said, blinking at Mickey like he was an idiot for not remembering the conversation. ‘You said big –’

‘Oh, wow, okay,’ Mickey interrupted, slamming a hand over Yev’s mouth and fighting to keep a blush off his cheeks. ‘Uh, so, where is this one sleeping?’

‘I’ll show you,’ Ian smiled, gathering Yev’s things and leading the way up to what was now just Liam’s room. ‘You can sleep in my old bed,’ he said, pushing open the door and waving Mickey and Yev inside.

‘Guessing it’s the one with all the army shit, right?’ Mickey said, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to the small bed directly in front of the door.

‘Yeah,’ Ian coughed. ‘Been a few years since I was here, but I guess they just left it up.’

‘I like it,’ Yev said, climbing onto the bed and looking at the walls happily. ‘Spike does, too.’

‘That’s good,’ Mickey smiled. ‘Where can I smoke?’ he asked, elbowing Ian in the ribs.

‘Outside. Downstairs. Here. Wherever,’ Ian shrugged. ‘There’s not really a rule.’

‘A’ight. Outside, then?’ Mickey jerked his head to the door and waited pointedly for Ian.

‘Yeah. You’ll be okay?’ Ian asked Yev.

The boy nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘Cool,’ Ian smiled, following Mickey down the stairs and out through the back door. ‘What is it?’

Mickey sat down on the top step of the porch and shook a cigarette out of the pack from his pocket. ‘You didn’t tell me your sister was fucking Lishman.’

‘Huh?’ Ian’s eyebrows shot up. ‘How’d you –’

‘He used to run for me.’

Ian blinked. ‘Are you saying my sister’s boyfriend is connected to your… mob?’

Mickey rolled his eyes and lit up the smoke he had been rolling between his fingers. ‘Yeah, and now he’s running for Terry.’

‘Are we –’

‘No, not in danger. He’s the only one who knows we’re in this house,’ Mickey sighed and took a drag of the stick, blowing the smoke out before he continued speaking. ‘Don’t think he’d be stupid enough to risk everyone in this house for a couple bucks.’

‘Told you he was shady as fuck,’ Ian huffed a laugh and snagged the cigarette from Mickey’s hand, taking a puff of it himself.

‘Didn’t know you smoked,’ Mickey commented lightly, pretending he wasn’t completely turned on by the sight of smoke curling from Ian’s nostrils.

‘Quit a few years back after I got diagnosed,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Started preferring endorphins over carcinogens.’

‘But this calls for it or something?’

‘You can’t say you don’t feel a little shaky being here,’ Ian passed the stick back and grimaced at the rain beginning to pour.

‘Terry doesn’t know I know he’s looking for me,’ Mickey stubbed the cigarette out on the damp wood beside his foot and tossed it out into the garden. ‘And even if he does, he doesn’t think I’d be stupid enough to come _here_.’

‘What if he does, though?’

‘Huh?’

‘What if he knows you’re here?’

‘He won’t find out until I’m right under his nose,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Jimmy won’t say shit, and neither will anyone else, even if they’re Terry’s guys.’

‘Why not?’

‘They respect me more than him.’

‘Can I have a bit more of an explanation than that?’ Ian asked, hearing the people in the kitchen move closer to the door.

Mickey’s tongue wet his lower lip as he fiddled with his lighter, creating and killing small flames. ‘Self preservation.’

‘Huh?’

Mickey’s eyes stayed down, focused on the lighter as he said, ‘You don’t want to get on the bad side of the family’s next head.’

‘Mickey, what –’

‘Hey!’ Fiona said brightly, swinging the door open behind them. ‘Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything?’

‘No, no,’ Ian said, still watching Mickey beside him. ‘What’s up?’

‘Dinner in about twenty minutes. You have time to unpack or whatever if you want.’

‘Okay, thanks, Fi,’ Ian said, smiling at his sister as she shut the door. Once he was sure it was closed, he snapped his fingers in front of Mickey’s face to get his attention. ‘What do you mean “family’s next head”?’

‘Nothing, talk about it later,’ Mickey muttered, standing and going back up to the door. ‘Let’s unpack, yeah?’

Ian frowned and rolled his eyes, but stood and followed Mickey inside and down to the basement anyway.

 

* * *

 

Dinner was… a little awkward. Jimmy kept shooting glances at Mickey across the table, Mickey was pointedly ignoring it, Liam was trying to shoot peas across the table by using his nostril as a cannon, and Fiona was trying to pry information out of Mickey about Alex’s life.

‘So what’s your family like?’ she started off by asking. ‘Any brothers or sisters?’

Mickey shook his head. ‘Only child. My parents died when I was younger, so I mainly bounced around foster homes. Made a few friends who were _like_ brothers, but that was it.’

‘Really?’ Fiona asked, and her tone was sad. ‘I can’t imagine life without my siblings.’

Mickey just shrugged. ‘I don’t mind being on my own.’

‘But you’re not!’ Yev said, poking him in the arm. ‘You have me!’

Mickey bit his lip and leaned over to kiss his hair. ‘Yeah, I know I do, bud.’

Yev grinned happily and patted his arm before adding, ‘And Ian.’

Mickey looked up and over to Ian, who smiled gently and nodded. ‘And Ian,’ he confirmed.

‘Ian tells us you work with troubled teens?’ Fiona asked, bringing Mickey back to his interrogation.

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said. ‘I help keep them in line and get them into programs to help reduce their chances of reoffending and stuff.’

‘That’s really great. You like it?’

Mickey shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s more out of a sense of duty. No one was really there to keep me out of trouble, and I could’ve really used a bit of guidance through my life, y’know? I just want to be that for someone else.’

‘Sounds like you really hooked a good one,’ Fiona said, kicking Ian under the table, who was smiling like he was seeing the sun for the first time, and it was shining out of Mickey’s ass.

‘I think so,’ Ian agreed. ‘He’s not too scary once you get to know him.’

‘My daddy is nice,’ Yev added. ‘He lets me watch the blue people.’

‘The blue people?’ Fiona asked, furrowing her brow.

‘Avatar,’ Ian explained. ‘Yev likes the banshees.’

‘Oh,’ Fiona nodded. ‘They’re pretty cool, huh?’

Yev nodded enthusiastically. ‘I want one but daddy says I can’t get one because it’ll die.’

‘I think that’s fair,’ Fiona said, standing and beginning to gather plates. ‘Ian, would you help me?’

‘Sure, Fi,’ Ian said, piling Mickey and Yev’s plates on top of his own and bringing them to the kitchen. ‘Mm… babe,’ Ian said, catching himself last minute from saying _Mickey_. ‘If Yev wants a shower or a bath, then the bathroom is upstairs, door on the left before the bedroom.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey nodded, smirking a little at the _babe_ title. ‘Yev, you heard the man. Bath and bed.’

‘And beyond?’ Ian asked innocently.

Mickey flipped him off, before he climbed up the stairs after Yev.

Fiona waited for Mickey to have disappeared, before she started talking again. ‘I like him. There’s something about him that’s a bit unsettling, though, and I just can’t put my finger on it.’

Ian shrugged and picked up a dishtowel as he waited for Fiona to wash the plates. ‘You’re always unsettled by _something_ when I bring someone home, Fi.’

Fiona smiled and bumped him with her shoulder. ‘Can you blame me? You’re my baby brother and I’ve got to protect you, right?’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Ian laughed. ‘I’ve got this one.’

‘So you know all his dirty little secrets, then?’

‘We’re not really at the stage where I know _all_ his secrets, but I’m working on it.’

‘And how about his violent streak?’ Fiona asked. ‘I remember you telling me that he stepped into a fight like it was nothing.’

Ian sighed and put away the plate he was holding. ‘He’s not violent, Fi. He’s not going to hurt me, or anything.’

‘How do you know?’ Jimmy interrupted, raising his beer to his lips as he sat at the table watching their conversation. ‘Has he told you that?’

Ian narrowed his eyes at Jimmy and said coolly, ‘He didn’t have to tell me. I trust him not to.’

‘You don’t feel like your faith in him might be a little… misplaced?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ Ian replied. And he meant it. He trusted Mickey not to hurt him, or let anyone _else_ hurt him. Ian was probably in the most danger he had ever been in his life, but he had also ever felt safer. Not a single part of him doubted Mickey or his abilities to keep him alive.

‘Ian, how long have you known him for?’ Jimmy asked. ‘Like… _really_ known him?’

Ian shrugged. ‘That’s not important. If he needs to tell me something, I know he will. Y’know, unlike _you_ , who used an alias and fake back story for how long?’

Jimmy sighed and shook his head, swirling his beer around in the can absently. ‘Just don’t rush into anything.’

_Bit late for that._ ‘Right,’ Ian said, deciding to ignore Jimmy for however long it took him to finish the dishes. Ian was glad he had apparently got the message and decided to stop talking.

About twenty minutes had gone by with Fiona trying to hold a one sided conversation with Ian, before Mickey came back down the stairs. ‘Kid’s in bed.’

‘Sleeping?’ Ian asked, putting the last plate away.

‘Nah, reading that damn dinosaur book again,’ Mickey yawned. ‘He’ll go to sleep when he’s ready.’

‘You know that for sure?’ Fiona asked, raising an eyebrow at Mickey’s free range parenting.

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Mickey said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘He’s gotta make his own mistakes, and he knows that if he doesn’t get enough sleep, then he’ll be tired tomorrow, so it’s up to him.’

‘Interesting. We tried doing that with Liam, but he just stayed up until two in the morning playing with things. Any suggestions? Seeing as you’ve got it down pat, it seems.’

‘Uh…’ Mickey blinked and processed the request for parenting advice. ‘Well. Yev’s kinda… he’s like…’

‘He’s a better influence for himself than you are?’ Ian filled in.

‘Something like that,’ Mickey nodded. ‘He’s not a rebel as such. For a nearly seven year old, he’s too damn mature when it comes to bedtimes. I just leave him to do his own thing.’

‘So… You’re saying we should let Liam run around?’ Fiona translated.

‘I guess,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘He’s gotta learn some time, right? He’ll come to the point where he realises he needs sleep, sooner or later.’

‘Solid theory. We’ll try it out during the summer or something, when he’s not at risk of falling asleep in class,’ Fiona laughed.

‘Probably a good idea,’ Mickey agreed. ‘I’m pretty beat, so I’m gonna take a quick shower and go to bed, I think.’

‘Okay. Did you find the towels?’

‘Yeah, found the towels.’

‘Great,’ Fiona smiled. ‘Ian, gonna go conserve water?’

‘Huh?’ Ian asked, hoping Fiona wasn’t about to push them to shower together. It wasn’t like he and Mickey had never seen each other naked, but with the new information that had led to their not-exactly-break-up, Ian didn’t know how that would go down.

Mickey, of course, had to throw him in the deep end. ‘Yeah, babe. Come conserve water with me,’ he said, even throwing in a wink and semi-sultry smile.

‘Uhh…’ Ian cleared his throat and remembered his own words to Mickey earlier in the day. _We’re gonna have to act all couple-y at my house._ He quickly threw on a smile and stood up, walking past Mickey and slapping his ass on the way up the stairs. ‘Come on, then.’

Mickey grinned and followed, throwing in some suggestive smirking and lip biting, just to keep up appearances, should anyone else come into the hallway. Once in the confines of the bathroom, he dropped the smile and said, ‘So how’re we going to do this?’

‘I don’t know,’ Ian said quietly. ‘And keep your voice down, the walls are thin as fuck.’

‘Outstanding,’ Mickey sighed. ‘Well… shit, I don’t know, man. I don’t give a fuck if you want to shower with me, or sit on the toilet while I shower, then we can swap, or what. I’m tired and I want to go to bed, so do whatever you want because I’m definitely in first.’

‘Hey, who decided that?’ Ian asked, slightly affronted.

‘What, you wanna race me for the first one or something?’ Mickey raised an eyebrow in challenge and turned the shower on.

‘I could.’

‘Then do it,’ Mickey said, starting to strip of his clothes and huffing when he saw Ian do the same. He was marginally faster than Ian and stepped in under the hot spray. ‘Looks like I win.’

‘Not fair,’ Ian whined. ‘My zip got stuck!’ he said, throwing his jeans onto the bathroom floor and sitting on the toilet to sulk in just his boxers.

Mickey rolled his eyes as he turned to put his back under the water. ‘Look, it’s not like we’ve never seen each other naked. Just get in here, Gallagher.’

‘Are we back to that point?’

‘Huh?’

Ian sighed. ‘Never mind. You sure you don’t mind me just… joining you?’

‘Only awkward if you make it awkward,’ Mickey shrugged, finding his soap from a rack in the side of the shower. Ian didn’t even realise he’d brought it up here. ‘Nice and warm in here, though.’

‘Fine,’ Ian grumbled, stepping out of his boxers and into the shower, pulling the curtain shut behind him. ‘You win.’

Mickey bit his lip and looked Ian up and down slowly. ‘Fuck yeah, I do.’

Ian crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, giving Mickey a look that said _seriously?_ ‘If you’re gonna be a dick about this, I’m just gonna wait for you to be done.’

‘Hey, if I can’t _touch_ the merchandise, I’m gonna enjoy the fuck out of it.’

‘I never said that, and I’m not merchandise.’

‘Not literally, asshat.’

‘Whatever,’ Ian muttered. ‘Pass me the soap,’ he said, sliding into the water beside Mickey.

Mickey handed the bar over and squirted some of Yev’s _No Tears_ shampoo onto his hand. ‘What did you mean?’

‘Huh?’ Ian asked, halfway through soaping up one of his arms.

‘You said you never said I couldn’t “touch the merchandise”, with you as the merchandise,’ Mickey replied, lathering up his hair and shifting in front of Ian to rinse it out.

‘I mean exactly what I said. You sort of just… assumed.’

‘That’s because you went all distant and shit.’

‘Uh, yeah. Because you lied to me about who you were,’ Ian said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. (Which it kinda was.) ‘Had to reassess my life choices, I guess.’

‘Have you finished reassessing shit?’ Mickey asked, pushing his hair out of his face.

‘Yeah.’

‘And?’ Mickey said, as he stole the soap out of Ian’s hand. ‘What have you decided?’

‘More or less that I don’t give a shit,’ Ian said honestly. ‘It’s not like you’re any different. You’ve just got a different name, a different backstory, and seem about sixty seven times more dangerous.’

‘Only sixty seven?’ Mickey shook his head. ‘Damn, means I’ve gone soft.’

‘Oh, yeah?’

‘Yeah, I mean, I’m used to being at least sixty _eight_ times more dangerous than my alter egos.’

Ian laughed and started rinsing the soap off himself. ‘Where does this leave us, though?’

‘If you wanna get technical, we’re still naked and wet in a shower,’ Mickey said thoughtfully. ‘If you mean in terms of whatever relationship we were or weren’t in before… I’m pretty sure you know how I feel. It’s just up to you,’ he shrugged.

‘Okay,’ Ian nodded slowly. ‘Can I make a proposal?’

Mickey raised an eyebrow and regarded Ian, trying to read his next move. He came up blank. ‘I suppose.’

Ian nodded again and raised one of his hands to Mickey’s face carefully, placing it on his jaw just in time to feel the hitch in Mickey’s intake of breath. ‘From now on,’ Ian murmured, running his thumb over Mickey’s cheek. ‘You have to be completely honest with me. If we’re about to get our asses blown off, you need to say so. I don’t want to be in the dark anymore.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said quietly, keeping his eyes on Ian’s.

Ian seemed to be fighting some sort of internal battle, as he continued stroking Mickey’s cheek for a few more moments. Mickey was unwilling to disturb him, worried it might make them fall from whatever foothold they had just found.

‘Okay,’ he said finally. ‘I think… I think…’

‘How about,’ Mickey suggested. ‘You stop thinking for a minute, and you just do it?’

The ghost of a smile appeared on Ian’s face as he said again, ‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, okay,’ Ian said, leaning forward and catching Mickey’s mouth with his own.

_Finally._ Mickey smiled into Ian’s mouth and pulled him closer by the hip, as Ian’s teeth raked across the side of his throat, and one of Ian’s hands drifted down his spine.

Of course, right as Ian’s hand graced the top of Mickey’s ass, there was a knock on the door.

‘I know I said “conserve water”, but I actually meant it, guys!’ Fiona called. ‘Ian, you know how long the water heater takes to refill!’

‘Fuck,’ Ian muttered, resting his head on Mickey’s shoulder briefly, before tilting his head back and yelling, ‘Yeah, sorry, Fi! Be out in a minute.’

‘Okay, good. Take your time, but hurry up,’ she replied.

‘What does that mean?’ Mickey asked quietly.

‘That means “get the fuck out of the shower, we know what you’re doing and it’s weird”,’ Ian sighed. ‘But I think we’re on the same page now, right?’

‘I think so,’ Mickey said, putting on his serious voice. ‘There might be a few finer details to work out, but I think we have the overall gist the same.’

‘Don’t be a dick,’ Ian said, backhanding him gently and getting out of the shower. ‘Huh, forgot clean clothes and everything’s downstairs.’

‘“Huh”, he says,’ Mickey muttered darkly, climbing from the shower after Ian and wrapping a towel around his waist. ‘“Everything’s downstairs”, he says, like that’s completely normal.’

Ian laughed and gathered up his stuff. ‘In this house, you don’t go three days without seeing someone else’s ass. It’s not a big thing.’

‘What, you all just gather in a circle, drop your pants and go, “Yep, that’s a good butt, see you all in three days for the next inspection” or some shit?’

‘No, everyone just has sex in the kitchen or on the couch.’

Mickey scrunched his face as Ian opened the door and started heading downstairs. ‘That’s disgusting and unhygienic as fuck.’

‘You get used to it.’

‘I’d really rather not, honestly.’

‘Rather not what?’ Fiona asked, as they entered the kitchen.

‘Get used to seeing everyone’s asses,’ Ian said smoothly.

‘Damn,’ Fiona said. ‘How was your shower?’

‘Insightful,’ Ian replied, opening the door to the basement-come-guest room.

‘I’m not even going to ask,’ Fiona shook her head. ‘Going to bed?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘Tired.’

‘Okay. Sleep well,’ she smiled.

‘Yeah, night, Fi,’ Ian said, waving Mickey down and following him into the small room, shutting the door and flicking on a light as he went.

‘Now what?’ Mickey asked, rifling through his bag for some sleep-appropriate clothing.

‘Now we sleep, I guess. Why?’

‘Well… You said you didn’t want to be kept in the dark, right?’

‘Right…’

‘So I guess there’s some stuff I should tell you.’

‘Like what?’ Ian asked, pulling on a pair of sweatpants and climbing into the bed.

‘Stuff about my sister, Svetlana… Me. Why my father wants me dead. That kinda stuff.’

‘Oh.’

‘Is that okay?’ Mickey asked, sliding in beside Ian.

‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘On one condition, though.’

‘Mm?’

‘Turn the light off.’

Ian huffed and reached over to flick it off, plunging the room into darkness. ‘Where do you want to start?’

‘Where do you _want_ me to start?’ Mickey said, tugging the pillow down on the mattress.

‘The beginning would be a good idea,’ Ian suggested. ‘Wherever feels like the right place to go from.’

‘Okay,’ Mickey said, nodding slightly. ‘From the beginning.’

After waiting for Mickey to speak for a few moments, Ian said quietly, ‘You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want.’

‘You have the right to know what you’re getting into, I guess,’ Mickey replied. ‘It’s just weird, because this isn’t the shit you tell people.’

‘How about instead of you telling me everything, you just answer some questions?’

Mickey nodded. ‘That might be better, yeah.’

Ian pulled the blankets up over his chest, before saying, ‘Tell me about your sister.’

Mickey smiled and laughed gently. ‘Mandy. She’s… Well. She lives up to the Milkovich name. She takes shit from no one and laughs at their pain. She’s kinda like a force of nature – unapologetic, destructive, and crazy.’

‘How old is she?’

‘Twenty three.’

‘Same as me. You said she was married, right?’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded. ‘My dad married all of us off as soon as we turned eighteen. He would decide which connections he wanted to strengthen, and find us a wife – or husband, in Mandy’s case – and force us into his little arrangements.’

‘So… your wife was an arrangement?’ Ian asked.

‘Pretty much. Less so than Mandy or a couple of my brothers, because me and Lana had been friends for a few years before my dad suggested marriage to hers,’ Mickey sighed. ‘She really was my best friend, you know. She thought she would be helping me by being a beard. She knew I wouldn’t hurt her or treat her like shit, and all I had to do was knock her up to keep the image straight. Literally.’

‘So what was so exciting about her family? What about Mandy and her husband?’

‘Calm down with the questions, Jesus,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Svetlana’s father had ties to the Russian Mafia, and Mandy’s husband… He was a good guy. His name was Emilio.’

‘Italian?’ Ian guessed.

‘Yeah.’

‘I see where this is going,’ Ian muttered.

‘Good, then I shouldn’t need to spell it out for you. Any other questions?’

‘Obviously,’ Ian yawned and folded one arm under his head. ‘You don’t have to answer if you don’t want, but how did your wife die?’

Mickey laughed bitterly. ‘Fuck, man. That’s opening up a whole other can of fuckin’ worms.’

‘Lots of little things leading to it or something?’

‘Yeah, how much time you got?’

‘Until breakfast tomorrow morning,’ Ian shrugged. ‘Ideally, I’d like to get in a couple hours sleep, but I wanna hear your stories first.’

Mickey said nothing, instead opting to just fling an arm out, hoping to hit Ian somewhere. ‘Before we go there, you gotta understand that no one knows this. Svetlana’s _family_ doesn’t know this.’

‘Why not?’

‘It would cause a huge rift between her father and mine. Break ties and all that shit.’

‘That sounds fun.’

Mickey huffed in amusement and turned onto his back, facing the ceiling. ‘You have no idea.’

‘Well… You can start whenever you’re ready.’

Mickey nodded and crossed his hands under his head. ‘Yev was about one when shit started going south. Me and Svetlana had been working on building up connections from places Terry didn’t even know existed, and we knew that at some point, he was going to shut us down. He thought we were going to go up against him and try to muscle our way to the top of the hierarchy.’

‘Were you?’ Ian asked.

Mickey shook his head. ‘Didn’t need to muscle my way there, because Terry had already decided I would take over his position when he retired. He thought I was getting ahead of myself and wanted to kill him off for the power.’

‘But he was wrong, I’m guessing.’

Mickey chewed on his lip while he decided whether to lie or not. ‘Not at first,’ he said honestly. ‘Before I married Lana, before Yev came along, I wanted to lead. Fuck knew I would do a better job than he was, but… shit changed. Yev was born, and I wanted to protect him and give him a better life than me.’

‘Even though you had a pretty good upbringing?’ Ian asked, rolling to his side.

‘Just because my family was rolling in it didn’t mean I had a good upbringing,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘My father was a violent drunk – still is. He used to beat me and my brothers to keep us loyal and in line. That’s how I fucked up my shoulder, actually. Been dislocated a few too many times. But Mandy… Well. Mandy definitely drew the short stick in being a girl, and my mother carried – carri _es_ – a concealed knife in case Terry does something she doesn’t like.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, fuckin’ Spartan woman, she is. She’d cut Terry’s face or whatever, and everyone would know exactly what he’d tried to do,’ Mickey smiled. ‘No one touches my mother, or even _considers_ it, because she’s tough as nails and as sharp as them, too.’

‘You sound like you have a lot of respect for her.’

‘She’s my mother, so obviously,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Even if she wasn’t, I would. Men who don’t respect women are cowards and assholes, and there’s a special place in Hell for them.’

‘How is this related to your wife?’ Ian asked, watching Mickey’s face in the gloom.

‘Fuck off, I’m getting there,’ Mickey replied, with no real heat to his voice. ‘Terry thought we were going to go up against him, right? When he found out that we were planning on leaving… He liked that even less than his original thought.’

‘So what, Terry ordered you to be killed or something?’ Ian asked jokingly.

Mickey turned his head and looked at Ian with a stony, unreadable face. ‘Yes.’

Ian blinked. ‘Shit, seriously?’

‘Yeah. At the same time as that, someone let slip to him that me and Lana weren’t… fucking, I guess,’ Mickey turned back to the ceiling and let out a deep breath, before saying quietly, ‘You can only imagine how Terry felt when he heard that the son he had chosen to take over was gay and leaving his…’

‘Mob?’

‘Mm.’

‘So you were really going to be the next head of the family, huh? I’m bedding Milkovich royalty.’

‘Not anymore. Everyone thinks I’m dead, remember?’

‘Right,’ Ian nodded. ‘So you faked your death?’

‘Clearly.’ Mickey sighed and laughed nervously – a weird sound that Ian had definitely never heard from the man beside him. ‘I’m stalling.’

‘It’s fine. You don’t have to tell me anything –’

‘Stop saying that, fuck,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘A’ight, so about five years ago, me, Lana and Yev had been at Mandy’s for dinner. It was only about ten thirty when we got home, but Yev was dead tired and snoring his ass off in the backseat, so I told Lana to go up to our house and open the door, get Yev’s pjs ready, all that crap. She went off, and after a few minutes of struggling with his fuckin’ carseat, I went inside with Yev.’

Mickey’s palms were sweating, his voice had faded to a whisper, and he didn’t know when it had happened, but his eyes were shut tightly as he recalled the memory. ‘There was only one light on in the kitchen, and I remember thinking that was fuckin’ strange, because why had Svetlana gone to the kitchen?

I went in, and there were three guys there holding knives. One of them had Lana and a blade against her neck, and all I saw was that she wasn’t even crying. Not whimpering or begging to be let go. She was stoic as fuck, and she knew there was no getting out of it, so it was like she had chosen to die… I don’t know. With some dignity or something. All the guy said was, “Terry sends his love,” and then he slit her throat.’

‘Oh my God,’ Ian whispered. He broke any rules he had set out for himself a few nights ago, and grabbed Mickey’s hand, taken completely by surprise when Mickey squeezed his fingers back tightly.

‘She had no hope in Hell of living through that, and the second that guy dropped her like a sack of shit to come towards me and Yev, I shot them. It wasn’t cold blood, it wasn’t self-defence…’ Mickey opened his eyes and saw stars bounce around his vision after having had his eyes clamped shut for so long. ‘They killed my wife. My best friend.’

‘I’m so sorry, Mick.’

‘My own stupid fault for thinking Terry wouldn’t find out. I know Lana would’ve been okay to play the martyr to keep Yev safe, but it’s fucking unfair that my kid got raised without a mother,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘I’ll never forgive Terry for taking that away from Yev, or taking her away from me.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Ian said in a tone of utter disbelief. ‘And you’re still here.’

‘Only thanks to my sister and her husband,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘They helped organise a couple of bodies similar to me and Yev from the morgue or something, they got people to blow up my car, they helped us out of Chicago… They’ve been feeding me money and letters through that French place I took you to for dinner.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. Owner is like… Emilio’s second cousin or some shit.’

‘Huh.’ Ian gave Mickey a small, sheepish smile as the other man rolled over to face him. ‘Sorry I made you relive that. I get why you didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘It’s okay. Past is past, and talking about it helps with emotions or some shit, I don’t know.’

‘Problems shared are problems halved?’

‘Hah, no. My problems shared are problems doubled,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘But I don’t want to talk anymore. I’m really just fuckin’ tired, man.’

‘Yeah, I know,’ Ian replied, letting go of Mickey’s hand and ignoring his small noise of protest to put his arm over Mickey’s waist and bring him closer. ‘You must be stressing about being so near to Terry again.’

‘I’m not worried about me,’ Mickey mumbled into Ian’s shoulder. ‘Just Yev and you.’

‘You don’t _need_ to worry about me.’

‘I don’t need to, but I do, and you need to shut the fuck up about it.’

‘Okay.’

‘Okay?’

‘Yeah, okay.’ Ian kissed Mickey’s hair and tightened his arm around him. ‘Go to sleep.’

‘I’m trying but you keep fuckin’ talking, turdhat,’ Mickey murmured sleepily.

‘Turdhat?’

‘Fuck off.’ Mickey yawned and nestled closer to Ian, falling asleep a few minutes later, feeling safer than he had months.


	12. Not The Grumpy Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘“Is this moving too fast?”’ Mickey snorted and shook his head. ‘A grape could fuckin’ roll itself along faster than we’re going. You still haven’t put it in and that’s pretty fuckin’…’  
> ‘Slow?’ Ian suggested.  
> ‘Yeah, fuckin’ slow.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, first: i'm sorry this has taken a while, omg. like i mentioned last chapter, a combination of work and tiredness is delaying these now. (sorry.) also i'm sorry this is so short???? it just seemed like a good place to stop, so... sue me.

‘So what’s the plan?’ Ian asked the next morning. He wasn’t even sure that Mickey was awake, but a few moments earlier, he had felt Mickey jolt slightly, like he had woken up from a nightmare.

‘What plan?’ Mickey murmured, nuzzling closer into Ian’s chest. So he was awake then.

‘We’re in Chicago now, so what are we going to do?’

Mickey yawned and stretched as well as he could from his position in the confines of Ian’s arms. ‘I need to get in touch with some people and start looking for my sister.’

‘You don’t think they’ll talk to your father?’

‘Not if they like their heads where they are.’

Ian hummed thoughtfully and shifted slightly to slot his leg comfortably between Mickey’s. ‘Who are you gonna call?’

‘Ghostbusters.’

‘You’ve already used that joke.’

‘That’s ‘cause it’s a good joke.’

‘No, it’s not.’

Mickey snorted and moved one of his fingers to poke Ian in the chest. ‘You needa shut up. I’m dangerous.’

‘Yeah, and right now, you’re getting snuggled, Mr Dangerous,’ Ian rolled his eyes. ‘You’re just a little marshmallow and you know it as well as I do.’

‘Fuck off, man.’

‘Seriously though, who are you gonna call? I don’t want to put my family at risk.’

‘You think I want to put Yevat risk?’ Mickey asked, before adding quietly, ‘Think I want to put _you_ at risk?’

‘No,’ Ian replied, trying to squash the swell of his heart at Mickey’s words. ‘Just… y’know.’

Mickey said nothing for a while and Ian thought he might’ve drifted back off to sleep, but then he muttered, ‘Gonna call my Ma.’

‘Wait, what?’ Ian squeaked. ‘You think calling your Mom is going to help?!’

‘She never liked Terry. She’s only with him out of a sense of duty, I guess, but she won’t rat me out.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Not entirely, but it’s not like I have many other options,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘If nothing else, she’ll keep quiet for Yev’s sake.’

‘Yeah, okay, but do you honestly think this is the best decision you could make?’ Ian asked, pulling back and looking down to Mickey. ‘I don’t think –’

‘Look, I know you don’t like this, okay?’ Mickey sighed. ‘But I know my mother, and I know how she operates, so let me run this, a’ight?’

‘Mickey, I –’

‘Boys!’ Fiona called loudly, knocking on the door. ‘Yev wants to come in. Is it safe?’

Ian sighed and loosened his grip on Mickey to get up and unlock the door. ‘Yeah, coming.’

‘Tell him to piss off,’ Mickey grumbled. ‘He’s fuckin’ enthusiastic in the morning.’

Ian stopped midway up the stairs and turned to give Mickey an incredulous look. ‘He’s your son and you love him anyway, so get over it.’

‘Jesus,’ Mickey shoved his head into a pillow. ‘Tell him I’m not here.’

‘You know, I think even a six year old will see through your cunning disguise,’ Ian commented lightly, shaking his head at Mickey’s useless attempt at hiding. He slid the lock across and opened the door. ‘Morning, Fi. Morning, Yev.’

‘Hi, Ian!’ Yev grinned flying past Ian and down the stairs towards his father in bed. ‘Hi, Daddy!’

‘Fuckin’ little x-ray dude,’ Mickey said, flipping over and grabbing his son under the armpits, throwing him gently into Ian’s vacated spot and tickling the ever loving shit out of him. ‘How’d you find me?’

‘You’re bad at hiding!’ Yev screeched between peals of laughter.

‘Excuse you, I’m fuckin’ awesome at hiding,’ Mickey said, grabbing one of Yev’s feet and sending his son into spasms. ‘Who’s the hide and seek champion in our house?’

‘Me!’

‘Nope,’ Mickey replied.

‘Yes!’ Yev squealed.

‘Nope.’

‘Yep!’

‘Jesus, I thought you said _he_ was enthusiastic for mornings,’ Ian said, half to himself, half to the rest of the room.

‘This isn’t enthusiasm, this is utter hatred of mornings,’ Mickey said, ceasing his attack on his son’s sole and flopping onto his back, as Yev lay giggling on the bed, squirming under the blankets and making a little heap at the bottom of the bed.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Ian,’ Fiona said softly, as Ian started, having forgotten she was there. ‘Can I talk to you for a moment?’

‘Hmm? Sure,’ Ian said, following her from the room and shutting the door behind himself. ‘What’s up?’

Fiona chewed her lip as she flicked her eyes between Ian and the door to the basement. ‘You don’t think you’re getting in too deep here, do you?’ she asked quietly.

‘What?’

‘I mean… You clearly love him. Alex and Yev, both, but what if something happens between you and you break up? Don’t you think that’ll have some sort of effect on Yev?’

Ian honestly hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t really thought about _anything_ to do with his and Mickey’s future after the revelations of the past few days. He didn’t know if they would stick together after this was all done with, or if they would even still be _alive_. He had come to the conclusion, however, that as protective as Mickey was for him… Ian was the same right back. He didn’t care so much anymore that Mickey had lied, because he got it – he really did. Now everything was more about what Ian would do to keep him in his life. Not die, probably, but he’d get damn near close.

Or not. Mickey had already said – or insinuated, at least – that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt him. But what happened when two people said that about each other? They’d either get hurt, or fucking die. One or both, it didn’t matter, because it wasn’t going to be a good outcome either way.

Mickey had Yev to look after, though, and Ian didn’t want Yev to grow up without either of his parents, and after having lost his mother in such a brutal fashion already, he wouldn’t let the same thing happen to Mickey.

Fuck it, Ian loved Mickey. Ian loved Yev. They needed each other more than they needed him, so… Ian wold take the fall for him, should things turn out that way. It was a strange realisation to have at eight in the morning, standing half naked in his sister’s kitchen, as his boyfriend lay mere feet away.

Ian realised he hadn’t answered Fiona’s question yet, and that she was looking curiously at him as she waited for an answer. _Don’t you think that’ll have some sort of effect on Yev?_

Probably. If Ian died, that would no doubt be a blow to his system, because Yev adored Ian, and Ian adored him right the fuck back. But for Yev to lose his dad? That would be way fucking worse and Ian didn’t want to think of how that would put a strain on his tender psyche.

‘Maybe,’ Ian answered finally. ‘But it’s better than he lose me as opposed to someone closer to him.’

‘Like who? Alex?’ Fiona raised an eyebrow. ‘Is something going on?’

‘No, I’m just saying,’ Ian said smoothly. ‘I’m not really anything to him except his friend and his dad’s boyfriend. I’m not his mother, brother, uncle or… anything. Besides, kids are resilient little people, and he would bounce back.’

‘Uh huh. But Ian –’

‘I’m gonna head back down,’ Ian interrupted, quite finished with his epiphanies for the day. ‘Spoon my boyfriend a little more, you know?’

Fiona rolled her eyes. ‘This conversation isn’t done.’

‘I’m sure,’ Ian replied, opening the door and slipping back into the basement. He put the lock across and went down the stairs to get into bed next to Mickey again.

‘What was that about?’ Mickey asked, swinging his leg about under the sheets to try and find his son. He stopped when he heard a quiet _“ow”_ and Yev reappeared at the top of the sheets, scowling at his dad.

‘That was mean, Daddy,’ Yev said, rubbing his arm where Mickey had only _lightly_ tapped him with the top of his foot.

‘Oh, come on,’ Mickey said. ‘I barely touched you.’ After Yev huffed and returned to his spot under the sheets, Mickey turned his attention back to Ian. ‘What’d she want?’

‘Uh…’ Ian yawned. ‘Just the _is this moving too fast?_ speech.’

‘“Is this moving too fast?”’ Mickey snorted and shook his head. ‘A grape could fuckin’ roll itself along faster than we’re going. You still haven’t put it in and that’s pretty fuckin’…’

‘Slow?’ Ian suggested.

‘Yeah, fuckin’ slow.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m not about to tell my sister _“Oh, we’re not going fast at all, there are yet to be dicks in butts”_. She’ll think I’m lying, anyway.’

‘Why?’

‘How long have Alex and I been dating? By this point, she’s probably expecting me to have proposed.’

‘Isn’t she worried we’re “moving too fast”?’

‘She’s a walking contradiction.’

‘Noted.’

Ian rolled onto his side and pulled the blankets up over his shoulder, studying Mickey’s face in the dull light. ‘It’s interesting, isn’t it?’

‘What is?’ Mickey asked, raising an eyebrow at Ian next to him.

‘I don’t know…That we’re… here.’

‘How is that interesting? We took a fuckin’ car.’

‘No, not literally. I mean… here. You know?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Are you about to go all _feelings_ on me, Gallagher?’

Ian coughed and tried to fight the blush he could feel working its way over his face. ‘No, why would you think that?’

‘Call it a sneaky suspicion after last night’s effort to conserve water. If you wanna say something, then just do it.’

Ian shook his head. ‘Don’t worry. We don’t have to do this now.’

‘Well that implies we’ll talk about it _later_ ,’ Mickey groaned. ‘Just out with it or keep it in.’

‘I’ll…’ Ian sighed and weighed up his options briefly before he came to a relatively swift conclusion. ‘I’ll just keep it to myself.’

‘Okay then.’

Ian huffed and was about to say something, when Yev popped up between the two of them.

‘Hi, Ian!’

‘Hey, Yev. You okay?’

‘Yep!’ Yev grinned. ‘What are we doing today?’

‘Uhh…’ Mickey frowned. ‘Hadn’t really considered it.’

‘Can we get chocolate milk?’

‘Sure, kid.’

Yev looked between Mickey and Ian and hummed thoughtfully to himself. ‘I have to pee,’ he announced loudly, worming his way out of the bed and going up the stairs to the door. ‘Can you please open the door for me?’

Mickey sighed and climbed out to go unlock the door for his son. ‘Don’t forget to wash your hands.’

‘I will. You can go kiss Ian now,’ Yev smiled.

‘I… what?’ Mickey asked.

‘You can go kiss Ian.’

‘Yeah, I heard, but what?’

‘Well…’ Yev shrugged. ‘You kiss someone if you love them, right? Like you and Ian?’

‘Oh… Right.’

Yev grinned triumphantly and left the basement, shutting the door on his shocked father.

‘Did I hear that right?’ Ian asked.

‘Depends what you heard,’ Mickey replied, locking the door again and going back to bed.

‘Probably something best added to my _“We’re not talking about it”_ folder.’

‘Probably.’

 

* * *

 

‘Morning, boys,’ Fiona greeted, as Mickey and Ian emerged from the basement guest room. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Better than I did in motel beds,’ Mickey said, sliding into a chair at the table.

‘I suppose that’s something,’ Fiona said, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘Hungry? Not really much around at the moment ‘cause I haven’t had the time to get food yet.’

‘We’ll go get food,’ Ian offered. ‘Yev said something about chocolate milk earlier.’

‘You don’t have to do that,’ Fiona said, shaking her head. ‘Really.’

‘No, we’re staying here and eating your food, so we should at least contribute. I haven’t been gone long enough to forget that, Fi.’

Fiona sighed but nodded. ‘Okay, thanks, Ian.’

Ian shrugged. ‘It’s what family’s for, right?’

Fiona smiled. ‘Right.’

 

* * *

 

After breakfast and a short conversation filled with angry muttering and harsh whispers, Ian, Mickey and Yev finally left to go get some food from somewhere. Ian had been concerned about where the hell they could go and not risk someone connected to someone else within Terry’s circle would find them. (Mickey had just rolled his eyes and said, _“You think my father does his own shopping?”_ and after a lengthy sigh, tacked onto the end of that sentence, _“We’re going to Whole Foods, Gallagher.”_ )

So there they were. At Whole Foods. Buying things Mickey had never seen before but probably would need to become familiar with, because Yev almost screamed with delight as they entered the store, and Ian looked as if he had died and gone to heaven. And his heaven was Whole Foods. Jesus Christ.

Mickey watched in horror as his son and boyfriend (?) practically skipped around the store, gathering enough fucking fruit and goddamn vegetables that it would probably bring Mickey’s wallet to very close to empty. Though Svetlana may not have been around for much of Yev’s life (as short as that life had been so far), she had certainly drilled it into him about healthy eating or whatever. Mickey half-hated, half-greatly admired her for that.

Before they reached the checkout, Mickey surveyed what they had in their cart and said, ‘A’ight, if I’m paying for all this shit, at least get some fuckin’ ice cream.’

‘I’m picking!’ Yev cried, running off somewhere.

Ian sighed and said, ‘I’ll get Yev and the ice cream. You unload.’

‘Oh, great, thanks, okay,’ Mickey said sarcastically, going up to a checkout and beginning to dump everything up next to the register to be weighed or… whatever.

The girl at the checkout looked bored out of her mind, then smiled thankfully as Mickey appeared to provide some entertainment. Her smile faded a little as she caught sight of his tattoos, but she quickly turned her attention to scanning and weighing everything Mickey put next to the till.

‘Having a good day?’ she asked, attempting to make polite conversation.

Mickey huffed and plunked a bunch of carrots beside the girl’s arm. ‘All this healthy shit is gonna give me allergies.’

‘Then why did you decide to come here?’ she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Mickey shrugged. ‘Limited options, I suppose.’

‘Limited?’

‘Not by my choice. My kid’s all into his vegetables and… fruit. It’s weird.’

‘Really?’ she asked. ‘Must make you and your girlfriend pretty happy that he’s into healthy food, though, right?’

‘Don’t have a girlfriend,’ Mickey replied, more out reflex than anything.

‘Oh…’ the girl said, awkwardly continuing to add up Mickey’s (Ian’s) purchases. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume.’

Mickey shrugged again as he added the last items onto the bench. ‘I’m just waiting for one more thing…’ he said, looking in between the aisles for any sign of Ian and Yev.

‘That’s fine,’ the girl said. ‘We can wait if it’s not here when I’m finished with all this.’

‘Daddy, look!’ Yev’s voice screeched, from somewhere to Mickey’s left.

‘Yev, where –’ Mickey was interrupted by Yev running full tilt towards him, a bag of something clutched in his hands.

‘Ian found pumpkin seeds!’ Yev said excitedly.

‘That’s great. Wanna put them up there?’

The girl smiled as Yev put his bag of pumpkin seeds up next to the till. ‘We waiting for anything else?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, hopefully no more seeds, though,’ Mickey muttered, spotting Ian rounding the corner, only a tub of ice cream in his hands.

‘Sorry!’ he said, handing the tub to the girl and giving her an apologetic smile. ‘We ran into pumpkin seeds and I told Yev I’d make him some baked and salted ones later.’

‘That sounds disgusting,’ Mickey said in the most unimpressed voice he could muster.

‘They taste like popcorn, so take your party pooper ass away from me and Yev’s little party of happiness,’ he said, then leaned in and murmured, ‘I mean, your ass can stay, but not the grumpy.’

‘Yeah!’ Yev agreed. ‘Not the grumpy ass.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Mickey groaned. ‘You’re a bad influence on my kid, Gallagher.’

‘Uh huh.’

‘So, uh,’ the girl said, taking advantage of the silent, yet somewhat sexually charged staring contest between Ian and Mickey. ‘How would you like to pay for this?’

Ian raised an eyebrow and nodded towards the register. ‘You deal with that, me and Yev will start taking bags to the car.’

‘Mhmm,’ Mickey pulled out his wallet and turned to the girl, catching sight of their total on the screen. He pulled out a few more bills than he would’ve liked and handed them over, receiving little change back.

‘Have a good day!’ the girl said cheerfully, as Mickey left the store to catch up with Ian and Yev at his car.

‘This fuckin’ food better be damn worth it,’ Mickey muttered, as he entered the driver’s seat and slammed his door shut. He turned to Ian and glared at him like this entire situation was his fault.

‘What?!’ Ian asked, glaring right back. ‘It was your suggestion to come here!’

‘Yeah, and you went along with it!’ Mickey replied. ‘You shoulda stopped me!’

‘Are you serious? Hell no!’

‘I like it,’ Yev said, deciding to throw in his few cents for consideration.

‘Me too, Yev,’ Ian said, maintaining eye contact with Mickey. ‘Me too.’

Mickey narrowed his eyes as they started another staring contest, but broke away when his phone started ringing. ‘Yeah?’

_‘Mickey?’_

‘Yeah, who’s this?’ Mickey asked, holding his hand up to stop Ian’s questions before they even started.

_‘That is no way to speak to the woman who gave birth to you.’_

Mickey could feel the blood drain from his face, and watched Ian’s eyes widening as he figured out something was up. ‘Mom?’


	13. Rely On Another's Two Feet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘I just wanna do good. I have Yev to take care of. I have…’  
>  _‘The redhead,’_ Nataliya finished. _‘You have the redhead.’_  
>  ‘Yeah,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘I don’t wanna put them at risk.’  
>  _‘You know as well as I do that they will never be safer.’_  
>  ‘They’ll also never be in more danger, Ma.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you all have [sam](http://moonymarks.tumblr.com/) to thank for this. (sorry it's only short and has taken so long!)
> 
> title from 'bury now' by crywolf feat. lis. (i'm a little bit in love with crywolf right now.)

_‘I hear you’re home.’_

Mickey cleared his throat and tried to get over the shock of his mother having acquired his number somehow. ‘How’d you get this number?’

_‘That driver, Jimmy. He came to me.’_

‘Of course he did,’ Mickey muttered. ‘Fuckin’ rat.’

_‘Absolutely not,’_ Mickey’s mother said, immediately jumping to Jimmy’s defence. _‘You think I didn’t know?’_

‘Wait, what?’

_‘I knew you were alive, Mikhailo. I’m not stupid.’_ Mickey could practically hear his mother rolling her eyes. _‘I’ve had people looking out for you. Jimmy was only doing what I asked of him.’_

‘Oh…’ Mickey flicked his eyes to Ian, who was still watching him intently.

‘What’s going on?’ Ian whispered. ‘Are we okay?’

_‘Who’s that? The redhead?’_

‘Yes, his name’s Ian, Ma,’ Mickey said quietly. ‘He wants to know if we’re safe or not. You’re not gonna send people after us, right?’

_‘You think highly of me, Mikhailo? I do not wish you dead. I merely wish you to be safe and happy.’_ Nataliya’s voice took on a softer tone as she continued. _‘Are you happy, Mikhailo?’_

‘Yeah,’ Mickey nodded, even though he knew she couldn’t see him. ‘I am.’

_‘Good. How is my grandson?’_

‘He’s good. A lot like Svetlana.’

_‘She was a good woman.’_

‘Yeah, she was.’

Nataliya sighed. _‘I don’t have long, Mikhailo. Tell me, why are you back?’_

‘Mandy,’ Mickey said, thumbing at the side of his nose. ‘She’s in trouble.’

_‘No, she’s not. She and Emilio went on vacation.’_

‘Dad tell you that?’ Mickey asked coldly, and by his mother’s silence, he knew he had hit it on the head.

_‘Mikhailo, what is going on?’_

‘This isn’t the kind of shit you say over the phone, Ma.’

_‘Mikhailo.’_

Mickey cleared his throat to distract himself from the embarrassment he felt building in his chest at being scolded by his mother, over the phone, no less. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, and that’s why I’m here. All I know is what Jimmy told me, and that’s that Emilio is dead, and Mandy’s missing.’

Nataliya cursed and sighed heavily. _‘She will not be dead.’_

‘How do you know?’

_‘Your father would not dare to hurt my daughter.’_

‘You know that means he’s probably got something worse lined up for her, then?’

_‘Mikhailo, if anything has happened to Mandy, he will answer to me first,’_ Nataliya said coldly. _‘Once I have dealt with him, you may do whatever you wish.’_

‘That sounds like your blessing in advance,’ Mickey noted lightly, trying to keep himself from being scared as fuck if his mother was implying what he thought she was.

_‘It is.’_

‘Ma, I –’

_‘Have you gone soft? The Mikhailo I remember would have without a second thought.’_

‘The Mikhailo _you_ remember wanted to lead,’ Mickey said, running a hand through his hair and shooting another glance at Ian, who had turned around and was having a thumb war with Yev. ‘I’m not that person anymore, Ma.’

_‘Then who are you?’_

‘I just wanna do good. I have Yev to take care of. I have…’

_‘The redhead,’_ Nataliya finished. _‘You have the redhead.’_

‘Yeah,’ Mickey mumbled. ‘I don’t wanna put them at risk.’

_‘You know as well as I do that they will never be safer.’_

‘They’ll also never be in more danger, Ma.’

_‘It’s a risk we take. You’re still a Milkovich, Mikhailo. Still one of us.’_

‘Yeah, it’s a cross I’m just gonna have to bear,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘What are we gonna do about Mands?’

_‘I’ll get in touch with some people. You do the same. I’ll have my girls keep their eyes open and ears to the ground.’_

‘A’ight. My guys still safe?’

_‘You know that better than I do,’_ Nataliya sighed. _‘Mikhailo, I must go. Be careful, yes? It would be disappointing to have one of your brothers take over.’_

‘I should probably be offended for them.’

_‘No, you shouldn’t. You know it, so do they, so do I.’_

‘Yeah,’ Mickey’s mouth quirked into a half smile. ‘Keep in touch.’

_‘I will contact you from a different number next time. It was good to hear your voice, Mickey. When this is done, I expect to see my Yevgeny.’_

‘Yeah, of course. Bye, Ma.’

_‘Ya tebe lyublyu, Mikhailo. Be safe.’_

‘Yeah, yeah. Super secret safe.’

_‘Do not sass your mother.’_

‘Sorry, Ma.’

Mickey didn’t expect a reply, and he wasn’t graced with one, either. As he hung up the phone, Mickey felt eyes on him, and turned around to see both Ian and Yev looking expectantly at him.

‘So?’ Ian asked. ‘What did she say?’

‘A lot of things.’

‘What did she say about me?’ Yev asked.

‘You little fuckin’ narcissist,’ Mickey shook his head. ‘She wants to see you.’

‘Oh! Tomorrow? I’m not at school tomorrow,’ Yev said excitedly. ‘Will she buy me ice cream? All my friends have grammas that buy them ice cream.’

‘Your baba won’t…’ Mickey frowned. ‘Shit, she might buy you ice cream. But you won’t see her tomorrow. Maybe in a few weeks.’

‘A few weeks?’

‘When all this is over and done with,’ Mickey nodded. ‘She’ll take care of you, Yev.’

Yev smiled happily. ‘Good. I don’t remember her much, but she smells like that rose thing and vanilla.’

‘Rosemary?’

‘Yep.’

Mickey smiled and started the car so they could take their crap all back to the Gallagher house. ‘Yeah, she does.’

Ian stayed quiet the entire way back to the house, and honestly, Mickey was damn impressed with his self-control, because he could tell the redhead was dying to say something. Or ask questions. Probably ask questions. He liked doing that.

When all the bags were inside the house, Ian left Yev with Fiona to sort where everything went in the cupboards, and dragged Mickey down to the basement.

‘A few weeks?!’ Ian hissed, slamming and locking the door behind them.

Mickey spun around to face Ian, from where he was standing at the foot of the bed in the dim light. ‘What the fuck are you on about?’

‘This will all be over in a few weeks?’ Ian said, angrily smashing his fist against the light switch a couple of times to turn the bulb on over their heads, as he joined Mickey by the bed.

‘What will?’ Mickey asked. ‘This thing with my dad and my sister? Yeah, fucking hopefully!’

‘Not us?’

‘Ian, Jesus fucking Christ, speak complete sentences with more context,’ Mickey said, gesturing wildly in frustration.

‘Us! We won’t be over?’

‘If we’re still alive, and you decide you still want to be with me, then no!’ Mickey almost screamed. ‘Why?’

Ian breathed out a sigh of relief and took a step forward to pull Mickey towards him and kiss him deeply, before letting him go just as quickly as he had taken hold of him. Ian rested his forehead against Mickey’s and smiled as he felt Mickey place his hands tentatively on his hips. ‘I only just got you, and I don’t want to lose you again, Mick.’

‘You couldn’t if you tried, Gallagher.’

‘Then I won’t try,’ Ian smiled, pressing their lips together quickly. ‘Milkovich.’

Mickey laughed breathily and cleared his throat. ‘You might not have to try, Ian. If someone’s gonna die, it’s not gonna be you.’

‘I won’t let it be _you_.’

‘You can and you will. If it’s the only way, you need to leave me and take Yev, and you fucking run. Got it? You’re not getting involved in this. You look after Yev.’

‘Mickey –’

‘I’m serious. Take care of him for me,’ Mickey said, his voice getting quieter to avoid it breaking.

‘You can take care of him yourself, because no one is gonna die. First, you needa find your sister, you know.’

‘Yeah? That’s an idea,’ Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘How do you suggest I do that when I have no idea what’s happened to her?’

Ian shrugged and moved to sit cross-legged on the bed. ‘Security cameras?’

‘They have an off switch,’ Mickey deadpanned. ‘Anything else?’

‘Figure out if she’s still alive?’

‘She will be. My Ma said Terry wouldn’t off her.’

‘Okay… then you gotta figure out where she’s being held,’ Ian said. ‘That would be _my_ first move.’

‘Well, Sherlock fuckin’ Holmes, if you think you’re so great, then _you_ find her.’

‘Sure,’ Ian nodded. ‘Tell me what to do.’

‘Ian, no. I’m not serious. I said you’re not getting involved,’ Mickey said, shaking his head vehemently. ‘I won’t let you get caught up in this.’

‘I’m already caught up in this, Mick,’ Ian sighed. ‘I can at least help. People know you, but they don’t know me. I can be sneaky and stealthy.’

‘You’re about as stealthy as a wad of shit to the head, Gallagher.’

‘That is _incredibly_ rude.’

‘True though.’

‘You’ve never seen me be stealthy,’ Ian replied. ‘So shut up. Tell me what you need me to do, and I’ll do it.’

Mickey bit his lip and contemplated Ian as he looked up at him. ‘I can’t let you.’

‘I’m not asking for permission. What do you need me to do?’

Fucking Gallagher. Mickey knew that he would dig his heels in, because once Ian made up his mind, he probably wasn’t going to back down. (Although he had said he hated Mickey a few days ago, and now he was basically refusing to let him go, so obviously Ian was easily swayed by emotion.) This, however, Ian wanted to help. Mickey could read the absolute, unwavering faith in himself and Mickey, that they would get through this, and that he could help.

Mickey sighed as he came to the conclusion Ian had been hoping for,  and went over to one of his bags – the one with the weapons he had collected from around his apartment. ‘If you gonna do this, I’m not gonna let you do it unarmed.’

‘You want me to carry a gun?’ Ian asked in disbelief.

‘Where I’m sending you, you can’t take a gun,’ Mickey muttered, rummaging around for the heavy object he wanted. ‘Here.’

Ian caught the small, dense thing that Mickey threw at him. ‘Brass knuckles?’

Mickey nodded. ‘The first I ever bought. They’ve gotten me out of some sticky situations.’

Ian slipped them onto his fingers to see how they felt. ‘Thanks.’

Mickey watched Ian flex his fingers and curl them into a fist. ‘You know how to punch, right?’

‘Really? You’re asking me that?’ Ian asked in amusement.

Mickey grinned. ‘Not gonna have you go in and not know how to defend yourself.’

‘Go in where?’

‘Ah, well. That I’m not going to tell you until I narrow down the possibilities. But to start… we need to get you to a tailor.’

‘Why?’ Ian frowned, starting to protest. ‘I don’t –’

‘Shut up, yes. You do,’ Mickey interrupted. ‘Where you’re going, you don’t go in jeans and a t-shirt, a’ight?’

‘I own dress shirts,’ Ian grumbled, looking down to the brass knuckles and tracing one of the many thin scratches. ‘And nice pants.’

‘That’s not enough,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Besides, I just wanna see you in a fitted suit.’

Ian rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. ‘Of course you do. I can’t afford a fitted suit, though.’

‘Taken care of,’ Mickey said, shaking his head. ‘Don’t worry. I got it.’

‘Mickey –’

‘Don’t say you don’t want me to pay for it or whatever, because I’m going to ignore you. If you’re going to help me, then let me help you, okay?’

‘Yeah, okay.’

 

* * *

 

When Ian and Mickey retreated to their room again later that night to sleep, Mickey could tell that something was on Ian’s mind. He could easily guess, he could easily tell Ian not to worry, he could start talking without Ian bringing it up, but he wasn’t going to.

Mickey rolled into bed beside Ian and stayed facing away from Ian, guessing that the other man would wait until he was asleep to start speaking. Mickey levelled out his breathing, and only had to wait a few minutes for Ian to talk.

‘Mick?’

Ian sighed when Mickey didn’t reply.

‘I don’t know what I’ve got myself into with you, but I don’t know that I mind, either,’ Ian said softly. ‘I’m fucking scared, and I don’t know what to expect, but I think I might have gotten myself in a little too deep here.’

Mickey felt Ian’s weight shift on the mattress, as he rolled around, putting his back to Mickey before going onto his back again. ‘I’m not gonna pull out, but I’m scared what I’m getting involved in. I’ll do this because I trust you, and you won’t get me killed. If you do, though, I’m fucking haunting you.’

Ian huffed. ‘But you’re asleep, so I don’t know why I’m even saying this.’

Ian rolled onto his side again, and let out a few deep breath. He pulled the blankets closer around his shoulders, and wished desperately that Mickey was awake, or had heard him or _something_ , so that he could provide some measure of comfort.

It came a few moments later when Mickey’s arm wound around his waist, and his back was pulled against Mickey’s chest.

‘I’m gonna keep you safe, Ian,’ Mickey murmured. ‘I promise.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((and now i shall retreat to my fic for the bang.))


	14. Code Crimson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah. Ian in a suit? Spank bank material. Knowing what he’d be doing in that suit? Well. Badass Ian also turned Mickey on, but risking his life sort of put a damper on everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops it's been like 3 months since i updated mY BAD IM SO SORRY.
> 
> also, here u go sam. sorry it's so short.
> 
> note: unedited bc it's nearly 3am and ain't nobody got time for that. i don't even know if this makes sense. i wrote it over like... 3 months. hah. whatever. all mistakes are my own.

This was simultaneously one of the best and worst things Mickey had ever witnessed.

Ian was more than slightly pissed off, because he was currently in the process of getting stabbed with pins, but the suit he was in made it worth it. (Hopefully.) Mickey had said they didn’t actually have much time, so he had helped Ian pick a suit off the rack to be altered to fit him.

Honestly, Mickey was pretty fucking turned on right now. Ian in a suit was definitely a sight Mickey could appreciate, but at the same time, the whole thing was tainted with the knowledge that soon Ian would be sent into the heart of the Milkovich empire. The last thing Mickey wanted to do was send Ian into harm’s way, but Ian had been right – it was pretty much the only way to find Mandy. Mickey was a far too familiar sight, and it would be completely detrimental to everything for him to do investigating, himself.

So, yeah. Ian in a suit? Spank bank material. Knowing what he’d be _doing_ in that suit? Well. Badass Ian also turned Mickey on, but risking his life sort of put a damper on everything.

‘What?’ Ian said, interrupting Mickey’s train of thought. ‘What’re you looking at me like that for?’

Mickey blinked and looked up to Ian’s inquisitive gaze. ‘Nothing. Just liking the suit.’

Ian snorted and rolled his eyes, striking a stupid pose, much to the annoyance of the tailor. ‘I called it.’

‘Obviously,’ Mickey said, faking a smile. ‘Anyone who doesn’t like a suit is lying.’

‘Uh huh,’ Ian relaxed from his pose and looked at himself in the mirror. ‘Are you going to tell me what I’m supposed to do in this yet?’

Mickey sighed and glanced up to the tailor, who took the hint and disappeared into the backroom. Mickey stood and walked across to Ian, idly straightening the shoulders of his suit. ‘I used to come here for my suits when I still lived here. That guy, Leo? He made my first one when I was six.’

‘What’s your point?’

‘I trust him,’ Mickey said, adjusting one of the pins in the fabric. ‘But I don’t want to talk about this here.’

‘Is it that bad?’ Ian asked, undoing one of the buttons on his shirt. He felt like he was being choked.

‘Well, I wouldn’t say it’s good.’

‘Is this going to be another late night conversation, Mickey? You afraid of talking about important stuff when the sun’s out?’ Ian raised an eyebrow in amusement. ‘You know that baby in the sun on the Teletubbies wasn’t real, right? The sun can’t hear you.’

‘Fuck off,’ Mickey muttered. ‘You’re fuckin’ full of yourself.’

‘Yeah, because I’m fantastic,’ Ian grinned. ‘Seriously, though. Where am I going? I need to know, Mick. We agreed I wouldn’t be in the dark.’

Mickey rolled his eyes and lifted Ian’s arms gently to see how the suit fitted. ‘Technically, you’re going to a strip club.’

Ian’s eyes widened and he blinked slowly. ‘Excuse me?’

‘My family owns a bunch,’ Mickey said dismissively. ‘There’s one, the _Smoking Pole_ , which my father uses for business dealings and the like. If anyone knows anything about Mandy, they’ll be there.’

‘You’re sending me to a strip club.’

‘It’s a bit more than a strip club.’

‘Meaning?’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘Do I really need to spell it out?’

‘Uh, yes. Please,’ Ian crossed his arms, earning a hiss from Mickey as he unfolded them again and gingerly began removing the item of clothing from him.

‘Don’t be surprised if someone offers you a happy ending.’

‘Wait, what?’

‘The _Smoking Pole_ has an unusually large back room, you get me?’

‘Yeah,’ Ian frowned. ‘That’s horrible.’

‘That’s business,’ Mickey shrugged.

‘Are you seriously condoning it?’ Ian asked, crossing his arms again and ignoring Mickey’s huff as he creased the shirt.

‘It’s not my place to tell the girls whether to do it or not. If they want to, they can. They keep all the extra.’

Ian sighed and shook his head. ‘As a former dancer myself, I can tell you, sometimes it’s out of pure fear you’ll lose your job if you don’t do what your boss wants. It’s not always an option to just not do it.’

‘Ian –’

‘Ah, no. Don’t you _“Ian”_ me,’ Ian snapped. ‘First club I worked at, they told me I was expected to do that sort of shit. You’ve had everything handed to you, Mickey. You don’t understand what it’s like to have your only source of income depend on how much you decide to sell yourself, okay? And, yeah, not every place is like that, but mine was.’

‘I haven’t had everything handed to me,’ Mickey said lowly, narrowing his eyes at the other man. ‘You wanna talk about hard lives? From the time I could walk, I was trained to be a fucking soldier in my dad’s war against fucking nothing. If I ever fucked up anything, he would hit me and use me like an ash tray, and I still have scars. I’ve killed people to impress my dad and gain his respect, and what did it get me? Forced into marriage, my wife killed, and my son in danger.’

‘Mickey, I’m not –’

‘My sister has just had her husband killed because they wouldn’t give me up. She’s been taken God knows where, and what the fuck can I do about it? Nothing. Because they’d kill _me_ before I even got the chance to help her.’ Mickey sighed and shook his head, sitting back down. ‘Being raised in a rich fucking family does not mean your life is automatically easy fuckin’ breezy. Nothing about my life has been easy. _Nothing._ ’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ian said quietly. ‘I didn’t mean…’

‘I know.’

‘I mean…’ Ian seemed lost for words and frowned at his own incoherency. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Yeah,’ Mickey said hollowly. ‘I’m twenty fuckin’ five years old and my life is a fuckin’ mess.’

‘I’m twenty three and so is mine,’ Ian said, sitting beside Mickey and smiling at him like _what can you do?_ ‘So what do I do once I’m at the club?’

Mickey turned his head from the floor to look curiously at Ian. ‘You still want to go through with this?’

‘Of course,’ Ian replied, like it was completely obvious he wasn’t pulling out. ‘I would do anything for my sisters, but if I was ever in a position where I couldn’t, I would want someone I could trust to help them. You trust me, right?’

Mickey gave a small nod. ‘As much as I can.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘I was raised in a “trust no one but yourself” kinda mentality,’ Mickey replied. ‘You’re gonna help my sister?’

‘In any way I can, yeah,’ Ian nodded. ‘Family means no one gets left behind, right?’

‘I’ve seen _Lilo and Stitch_ ,’ Mickey deadpanned. ‘We’ll talk later, okay? I don’t wanna talk about this here anymore.’

‘Okay, but you better not back out later.’

‘Not likely. I’m losing fuckin’ sleep over this.’

‘Wow, so you _do_ care?’ Ian asked innocently.

Mickey clenched his jaw and leaned into Ian. ‘One day, I’m gonna watch you get stabbed because you can’t stop yourself from saying shitty things.’

‘I would’ve thought you’d come to my rescue.’

‘Not when I’m the one doing the stabbing.’

 

* * *

 

‘I’ve never been wired before,’ Ian murmured, watching Mickey as he sorted through one of the duffel bags in the corner of the room.

‘I’m not wiring you, dumbass,’ Mickey replied, coming back with a few things in his hands. ‘Just a few things you’re probably gonna need.

Ian raised an eyebrow and took the items from Mickey. ‘How much money is this?’

‘Roughly five grand,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Got the brass knuckles, yeah?’

Ian nodded and fished them from one of the inner jacket pockets, dropping the bundle of notes beside the jacket on the bed. ‘So what am I supposed to be doing at this club?’

‘Looking for my sister or listening out for somewhere she might be,’ Mickey said, sitting on their bed and watching as Ian dressed. ‘But you have to be careful, and I mean _really_ careful. These guys don’t fuck around, so if they know you’re connected to me, you’re dead.’

‘Oh good,’ Ian slipped his shirt on and started buttoning up the front. ‘What does your sister look like?’

‘Me, pretty much.’

‘That’s unfortunate.’

Mickey flipped Ian off and ignored him. ‘Dark hair, pale as fuck, and she has this air to her that feels like she doesn’t fuck around and she could kill you without a second thought, you get me?’

‘You’re a violent bunch, aren’t you?’

‘We were born into the mob.’

‘True.’

‘Just…’ Mickey sighed. ‘Don’t mention you’re looking for her. Just say you have a thing for people that look like her, yeah?’

‘Yeah, I get you,’ Ian nodded. He pulled his suit pants on and looked cautiously over to Mickey as he slid the belt in through the loops. ‘I’m not gonna die, am I?’

‘Nah, you should be okay. Just don’t break your cool, don’t mention me, and don’t fuck up.’

‘Words of wisdom, huh, Mick?’

‘Thought it would be obvious,’ Mickey shrugged. ‘Just remember to be subtle, okay? Don’t wanna have to go in and pull you out and get both of us killed.’

‘Oh good. Positive reinforcement.’

‘You’ll be _fine_. I’ll be around the corner in one of Jimmy’s cars, so it’s not like I’m abandoning you.’

‘Mhmm, yeah, but you’re still sending me into a virtual lion’s den.’

Mickey rolled his eyes. ‘My dad won’t be there. Tonight is family dinner night. Enforced by my mom, so he’s not going to be at the club until close to midnight.’

‘Okay. So the plan is basically to throw me in a suit, get me in and out of the club before midnight, and try to find out where your sister might be?’

‘Basically.’

Ian nodded. ‘Well, it’s almost 9 now, so let’s get this shit over with.’

 

* * *

 

As Ian walked towards _The Smoking Pole_ , there were fewer things he had regretted more in his life.

Realistically, he knew he was in no danger. Mickey had assured him on the drive over that no one would kill him while he was in there. Statistically speaking, it would be unreasonable for the staff to assume that every redheaded guy that walked through the door would be connected to Mickey. They wouldn’t risk an investigation from the police if something happened to Ian while he was there.

Mickey had tried to make Ian feel better about the whole thing by quoting _Lord of the Rings_ , and saying, “The closer you are to danger, the further you are from harm.”

Which definitely hadn’t made Ian feel better about it, but whatever.

The bouncer at the door looked Ian over as he approached and nodded once to allow Ian straight in, apparently waiving the cover fee Mickey has warned Ian of.

Inside the club, Ian was immediately enveloped by a thick cloud of smoke. He wrinkled his nose against it, and took in the scene in front of him. The main stage was ringed with tables, some with people in them, some empty, and there was a girl working the double height poles at either end of the stage. A few podiums were dotted around the bottom floor, all with girls dancing on them as well, with a few more dancers walking around and offering dances to patrons in booths and arm chairs.

Ian walked slowly to a booth Mickey had mentioned in the corner, one he said was never used or visited much, and took in the atmosphere. The thumping music wasn’t really the sort of thing he could imagine older men being into, but he supposed they weren’t exactly coming here for the music.

As Ian settled into his booth, he scanned the room and the dancers for dark hair and pale skin, but he saw none. Maybe there was some sort of theme going, because every girl that Ian saw was blonde or redheaded. There was one woman Ian saw who had dark hair, but she seemed to be the manager or something, because she mostly walked around and talked to the girls, who all appeared to be soothed by her presence. Besides, Mandy was supposed to be Ian’s age, and this woman definitely did not look to be close to Ian’s age at _all_.

‘You lookin’ for something in particular?’ a voice asked beside Ian.

He turned around and barely made out the sharp features of the young woman in front of him. ‘Mm, someone recommended this place to me, but all your people are blonde, and I’m more into the dark and mysterious sort,’ Ian glanced around the club, paranoid someone was watching their exchange.

The girl flicked her sort blonde hair and grimaced. ‘Blondes have more fun apparently.’

‘You don’t?’

The girl shook her head. ‘I haven’t been here long.’

‘Not enjoying it?’

‘You wanna take a guess at that?’

Ian smiled ruefully. ‘Why don’t you quit?’

‘I can’t,’ she said quietly. ‘Look, I can’t stand here chatting all day. You want a drink? A dance? Something…’

Ian sighed and put on an act of being disappointed with the offerings of the club. ‘Nah, I’m not really into blondes.’

‘I’m sure one of the reds would do you,’ the girl muttered, half to herself, half to Ian. ‘I have to move on. Have a good night.’

‘Hey,’ Ian called, stopping the girl from leaving. He didn’t want to be there, and the girl clearly didn’t either, but he couldn’t leave without something for Mickey, and maybe a disgruntled employee would be the ideal place to get some information. Thing was, he didn’t even know what the fuck he was supposed to say, so he went with, ‘Is it true this place is owned by the mob or something?’

The girl huffed and stepped back into Ian’s space, letting her hair hang down like a curtain to hide their conversation. ‘The Milkoviches aren’t a mob. They’re a crime family.’

‘Funny,’ Ian said absently. ‘Someone else told me that.’

The girl furrowed her brow and slid onto Ian’s lap, lacing her fingers around his neck. ‘Oh yeah?’

_Shit._ ‘Uh, I mean, no.’

‘Who?’

‘I don’t –’

‘Was it Mickey?’ the girl asked lowly, grinding lightly onto Ian and tipping her head back. Fuck, she was making this look legit, and here was Ian, awkward as fuck, and clearly fumbling.

‘I don’t know who that is.’

‘You’re the redhead,’ she whispered, nuzzling into Ian’s neck, and circling her hips. ‘Tell him to get me out.’

‘I… What?’

‘Tell my brother I need to get out. They’re having a sideshow tomorrow night at 10 at the office. Tell him code crimson,’ she whispered hurriedly. ‘Get me out.’

Ian had no idea what the fuck any of that meant, but he committed it to memory and nodded. He remembered he was supposed to be enjoying this or whatever, and tilted his head back, sighing loudly, just in case there was some sort of camera watching them or something.

As the girl made to move off him, Ian leaned close to her and murmured, ‘I’m gonna help you, Mandy.’

The girl nodded and gave him a sultry smile as she left. ‘See you round, kid.’

Ian smiled back in the same manner and looked her up and down, like he supposed he was expected to. He couldn’t help thinking that the tiny, metallic faux leather she was wearing looked ridiculously uncomfortable.

As soon as the girl (well, Mandy, apparently) had left Ian’s vision, he dropped a few notes on the table and left, walking as fast as he could without looking suspicious, back to the spot Jimmy and Mickey had dropped him off at.

‘So?’ Mickey asked, the moment Ian had shut his door. ‘What did you find out?’

‘Um, I think I found your sister,’ Ian frowned. ‘I don’t understand what she said, though.’

‘What did she say? Are you even sure it was her?’

‘No, everyone there is blonde, but she talked in that way you do.’

‘Huh?’

‘Apparently I’m a shitty actor, but I accidentally said that someone else had told me that you were a “crime family, not a mob” and she got all suspicious and basically started talking in code while giving me a lap dance?’ Ian said, sounding confused at his own words.

‘What?’ Mickey asked, raising his eyebrows.

‘Your sister gave me a lap dance.’

‘No, what did she say in code?’

‘Well, she started with _“tell my brother I need to get out”_ , then she said something about a sideshow at 10 tomorrow night at the office? And code crimson…’ Ian trailed off, noting how pale Mickey had gone. ‘What?’

‘A sideshow at the office?’ Jimmy repeated. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yeah, why?’

‘Shit,’ Mickey muttered. ‘We gotta get her out. She can’t go in there. And you said code crimson?’

‘Yup. What’s code crimson?’

‘Direct involvement in bad things,’ Mickey said, looking to Jimmy’s concerned face in the rear view mirror. ‘Can you get her out?’

‘I can’t get her out,’ Jimmy shook his head. ‘But I can get Ian in.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> APOLOGIES IN ADVANCE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER I'VE BEEN TOLD IT'S A LESS THAN GREAT IDEA BUT WE'RE GOING THERE ANYWAY BECAUSE??? I'M A HORRIBLE PERSON, BASICALLY.

**Author's Note:**

> tags will be added as story progresses, rating is subject to change.
> 
> [my tumblr if you want/need me](http://im-not-his-keeper.tumblr.com/).


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